


That birds would sing and think it were not night

by HisMomoness



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Pining, Tea Shop Zuko, background kataang, because these boys are idiots for a good while, but like at the end, sexually ambiguous sokka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25786939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisMomoness/pseuds/HisMomoness
Summary: Sokka just needs to pass his theatre studies class to get out of here with his engineering degree, preferably while keeping his grades up to get into a decent graduate program. Zuko has very little patience and makes Sokka's mouth go dry whenever he looks at him, but he's a pretty good tutor.Cue a mildly unhealthy obsession with Romeo and Juliet and a foray into water polo, and Sokka's beyond gone for the intimidating, snarly tea server. Problem one is that said snarly tea server insists on staying friends. Problem two is that Sokka absolutely cannot handle that.
Relationships: Aang & Toph Beifong & Katara & Sokka & Suki & Zuko, Past Sokka/Suki (Avatar) - Relationship, Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 141
Kudos: 830
Collections: Koi’s atla fic recs





	1. In which Sokka needs caffeine

**Author's Note:**

> Hark! 'Tis another Zukka university AU!
> 
> I know nothing about theatre or engineering, and it shows. Enjoy!

It’s barely two weeks into the semester, and Sokka needs caffeine. Sleep would be nice too, since no coffee will ever really make him feel as refreshed as a consecutive eight hours of unconsciousness, but sleep is elusive. Screw sleep. Caffeine it is. 

His friends had told him about the new tea shop—not _new_ new, it’s been around for a while but has new ownership—and it’s supposed to be in the direction of the class he’s heading to anyway. He sees the rebranded sign as he rounds the corner to turn towards the engineering building. The Jasmine Dragon. It’s not technically on campus, but right on the other side of the road and close enough to still draw the university crowd. 

Sokka’s not really a tea drinker but if they can still make caffeine happen, then he doesn’t care. He crosses the road and pushes through the door, his shoulder bag bouncing against his thigh. He makes for the counter at the back before realizing it’s hardly a counter, more of a half-wall that separates the kitchen and sitting areas of the shop. 

Oh. This is a _sit and enjoy_ kind of place more than a _get your hit and get out_ kind of place. Well, he has a little bit of time. He charts a course for an unoccupied table in a far corner.

The place is small, quiet. There’s a few groups of students huddled at the other tables, and one or two others who have earbuds in and are studiously ignoring the world outside of their laptops. He’s barely in his seat before an older man with greying hair and a matching beard brings him the menu. A real menu, printed on thick paper slipped into a plastic cover. They really are old school here. 

There’s about fifty fucking kinds of tea on this menu. Sokka stares. 

“First time?” the man asks. 

Sokka looks up and offers a smile. “Yeah. But I’ve heard good things.”

The man beams proudly at that. “Word of mouth is our best advertisement. Please take as long as you’d like. We’re also baking a fresh batch of cookies in the back.”

“Thanks.”

The man wanders away to top off the drinks of a gaggle of students near the front windows. Sokka spends about a minute trying to make sense of the menu before he feels the presence of someone else at his shoulder. 

“What do you want?” a low voice asks. 

It’s a goddamned cliche, but Sokka _swears_ his breath catches at the sound. He tilts his head back to look at the owner of the rasp. 

Fuck. 

This apron-wearing tea dude is due for a raise if he can get everyone’s mouth to go as dry as Sokka’s does. He’s tall and slim, but Sokka would put money on there being some nice muscles underneath the loose black button-down Tea Guy is wearing. Dark hair that reaches his jawline covers much of his face, but not enough that Sokka can’t make out a large scar across the left half. That barely holds his attention, however, because Tea Guy has eyes that are _unreal_. Sokka didn’t even know it was possible to have eyes that were the colour of molten gold. He briefly wishes he was an artist so that he could at least do Tea Guy’s eyes justice in his mental descriptions. 

Sokka usually considers himself very good with words, but they fail him at this particular moment. He swallows before trying to answer.

“Uh,” is what he manages.

“What do you want?” the guy repeats, voice sharper than is warranted. Sokka bristles slightly. 

Of course he’s an asshole. Sokka snaps himself out of his trance long enough to focus on ordering. 

He’s not focused enough to avoid noting that the guy isn’t wearing a nametag, and that he’s stupidly disappointed by that fact. Tea Guy it will have to be.

For now. Sokka can think of about a dozen things he’d rather call the man—he’d start with _baby_ , probably, because he looks like the kind of guy that would secretly melt a little bit at that and Sokka is nothing if not a people pleaser.

Focus. 

“I’ve never been here before. Do you do coffee?”

Tea Guy scowls. “Do you see coffee on the menu?”

“It’s a big menu.”

“I don’t have time for this,” he grumbles, turning away.

“Wait!” Sokka’s voice is louder than he intends, far too loud for the sleepy atmosphere of the shop. He winces. “What do you recommend?”

Tea Guy is still scowling, but he does stop. His head tilts a little to consider Sokka. “You don’t drink tea,” he says. It’s not quite a question. 

Sokka tries for a sheepish smile but feels like he may have just grimaced maniacally. “Not really, no. I heard this place was good, though, and I could seriously use a pick-up before my next class. So...maybe just bring me what you recommend?”

Tea Guy turns away without another word, and Sokka slumps back in his chair. He’s probably going to get tea, right? The guy’s working. Customer service protocol demands that he bring tea. Sokka’s _sure_ that’s a thing. Probably. 

He might not be getting tea. 

He sighs and pulls out his phone. 

Sokka’s furiously texting Aang to distract himself from the embarrassment clawing its way up his throat, so he startles slightly when a large mug is placed on the table in front of him by a pale hand.

Tea Guy’s back is turned already by the time Sokka looks up to say thank you. 

The transaction is clearly over—Sokka’s smart, and he knows he should just drink his damn tea and get to class. At this rate he’s going to be late enough as it is. 

“What’s your name?” he blurts.

The retreating tea guy pauses. Turns. Fixes Sokka with a glare that has his mouth going dry all over again, and he can’t decide whether it’s from fear or awe. Maybe it doesn’t matter. 

“Zuko,” Tea Guy says, softly. Then he’s gone. 

Sokka doesn’t get another glimpse of him— _Zuko_ —before he’s done his tea and really needs to get to class. He has no idea what kind tea it was other than to say it wasn’t the black kind, but it was delicious. He drops a ten on the table and waves at the older man before pushing back out onto the street. 

“Come again soon!” the man calls.

The door swings shut and Sokka lopes towards class. 

**\-----**

Sokka’s organized. Now, at least. He’s known as the plan guy in his friend group, a mantle he wears proudly.

He didn’t always have a plan. For a long time he didn’t have a fucking _clue_. 

Cut to bumming around for three years after barely scraping through high school with his degree, getting into dumb shit because he was bored and hung around dumb people, and finally landing in a cell for a night to be faced with his father’s disappointment the next morning.

Sokka had figured out a plan real quick after that. He should have been relieved that there were no charges against him, but he’d been more ashamed than ever before in his life. Nothing was worse than having his father look at him like that—so sadly—while he said in a small voice that Sokka was wasting his potential. He was determined that it would never happen again. Katara—bless his sister—had pestered him until he picked a major and applied to university at the same time as her. 

Sokka had been scared, and he can admit that, so he’d applied to the same schools as Katara. His grades from high school were less relevant as a mature student, but he still hadn’t gotten into his preferred major. He’d gotten into a general science degree, though, and his dad had been proud.

Then he’d worked his ass off for a year to get his grades high enough to transfer into the engineering major he’d wanted from the start. He’d continued to work hard since then, making up extra credits by overloading on courses and spending extra time in the lab whenever he could. 

Sokka likes what he does, and it feels good to have a goal that he’s moving toward. His sister and friends are amazing and he has all the family support he could ask for. Being a mature student hasn’t always been easy, and sometimes he feels like he should be farther in life than he is, but he’s getting through. 

Sokka is just so damn _tired_. It’s the fall of senior year, and he needs a break. He spent the summer doing grounds maintenance with the city and taking extra courses. His arms show the fruits of his labour, and he finally has enough engineering credits that he didn’t have to overload this semester, but he doesn’t feel well rested at all. 

The point is that Sokka is organized, and tired, and he thought that arranging his schedule and waiting to take his required arts elective until senior year would give him a break. So far he’s been proven entirely wrong. 

He’s come to the conclusion that he hates theatre. Sokka likes movies—action, mostly, but if you get a drink in him he’ll readily admit to having seen _The Notebook_ more than once (he just won’t admit to tears shed). He thinks he knows what makes a good movie, so this theatre studies course should have been a breeze. 

It’s not. He’s doing poorly at only a month in. The first set of midterms are next week, and if he doesn’t start pulling his grade out of its current nosedive his entire GPA is at risk. 

What kind of respectable university offers theatre studies, anyways?

(Many.)

It’s too late to comfortably drop the course and try to get caught up in another, so Sokka has to get through this. 

His most recent paper earned him a low sixty. He tried his best, he really did—he even started it earlier than the night before the due date—so he’s frustrated at the grade. 

Sokka’s late afternoon theatre studies class ends and he joins the queue to speak to the professor at the front of the lecture hall. It’s long, probably full of theatre enthusiasts who want more information about the upcoming exam. Sokka hoists his bag over his shoulder and waits.

It’s a long wait. Finally his turn is up, and he introduces himself to Professor Pakku before launching into his spiel. 

“I was just wondering, sir, if you’d have time to discuss the grade on my paper? It was lower than I expected, and I’d like to find out what I can do better next time.”

Pakku doesn’t bother to look up from the tablet that he’s tapping away on. “If you read the course website, you’d know that all grading disputes are to be taken up with the teaching assistant who graded your work.”

Sokka did not read the course website. 

“Uh, how do I know which TA graded my paper?”

Pakku deigns to fix Sokka with a glare that makes him shift on his feet. “We only have one TA. Their contact info is in the syllabus.”

Sokka moves away to fumble with his phone, trying to pull up the course syllabus. It buzzes in his hands as he opens the browser. 

**Aang:** are you still coming to Toph’s tonight???

**Sokka:** yeah just have to deal with something from class

**Aang:** ooohh

**Sokka:** what??

**Aang:** you never deal with things from class this late

**Aang:** sure you donut mean you need to deal with the super hot boy from the tea shop you told me about a couple weeks ago?

**Aang:** *don’t

**Sokka:** i never said super hot 

**Sokka:** dont put words in my mouth

**Aang:** sure sure

**Aang:** see you soon!

Sokka finally gets the syllabus open on his phone and scrolls down to the TA info. He notes the office building and number before shoving the device back in his pocket. He doesn’t want to email the TA. Sokka does better in person where he can charm people, and he’s very successful. Tea shop incident notwithstanding.

He silently curses Aang for reminding him of that, even if he hasn’t really stopped thinking about it since. 

It’s not his fault that the most beautiful person he’s ever seen got him tongue tied. He’s merely a mortal. 

If he goes now, there’s a chance that the TA will still be in their office before heading home for the night. Sokka books it to the building on the syllabus and recalls the room number. 007. The basement. 

It’s only early evening now, but this building is empty. It’s the plant agriculture building, if he remembers right, and he’s not sure why a theatre studies TA would have an office here. 

The door’s closed. Sokka knocks anyway. If there’s no response, he’ll just come back tomorrow, or email to set up an appointment.

Sokka can hear a rustle behind the door. Somebody’s home, but it’s a long moment before the sounds move towards the door, as if the occupant were debating whether they wanted to deal with anyone at this time. 

Sokka fixes a grin on his face that he hopes is friendly enough to convince them that they are indeed willing to deal with him.

The door swings open to reveal Tea Guy, scowling. Sokka’s grin falters with surprise, but he recovers quickly. This town isn’t that big, after all, and most young people have some connection to the university. 

“Uh, hi. Zuko, right?”

Zuko’s eyes narrow at him. “What do you want?”

“Is that always your opening line?”

Zuko stares.

“You know, because it’s the same thing you said at the tea shop?...” 

Shit. Sokka should have had a way better opener planned, maybe a good quip about having a license to kill. Why can’t he talk around this guy? He’s brooding and definitely hot in an objective way, but the prickliness should be a sufficient turn off. Sokka has standards, dammit!

He clears his throat. “I’m looking for the theatre studies TA for Professor Pakku’s class. Did I get the wrong office number?”

“It’s six in the evening.”

“Well, yeah, I just thought I’d check…”

“Did you email for an appointment?”

“No, but I figured if they were—”

Zuko cuts him off with a put-upon sigh. “Come in, then.”

Zuko turns and drops himself into a ratty desk chair in front of a desk that’s bare except for a laptop. He closes the computer quickly before turning back to Sokka. 

The room is small, the size of perhaps a large closet, and the two desks occupying it are arranged in an L shape. The other desk has some personal items and looks like it belongs to another graduate student, but it’s also the only other chair so Sokka lowers himself into it and faces Zuko.

Zuko’s hair is pulled into a small bun, the short strands hanging loose around his face. They look soft and Sokka wants to push them back, just to see if they are. He’s wearing a sweater today, a deep maroon cable knit crewneck that gives a peek of collarbone. The colour brings out his eyes and scar, though Sokka suspects the latter was not intentional. Nobody should be able to look good under shitty fluorescent lighting in a windowless basement office, but Zuko does. 

Sokka tears himself away from admiring Zuko and forces himself to meet his eyes. “You’re the theatre studies TA?”

“Clearly.”

“You don’t strike me as the type.”

Zuko’s only existing eyebrow quirks up. “What type do I strike you as?”

_Mine,_ he has to hold himself back from saying. It’s true, though. Which is surprising, because Sokka’s type has historically been very much women. 

“Maybe a philosophy major or something?”

“You’re not too far off. Literature. PhD.”

Damn. Zuko can’t be more than a year older than Sokka, from the looks of it. No better way to feel inadequate than by comparing yourself to the hot young academic who holds your grade in their hands. 

“That’s impressive,” he says honestly. “What year?”

“Second.”

“What’s your thesis about?”

Sokka swears Zuko’s eyes flash with what looks like interest before narrowing back into his default scowl. “What can I do for you…?”

Oh. He’d never told him his name. “Sokka. I just wanted to ask about my recent paper. I’m not sure what I can do to be better in this course, since this stuff really isn’t my strength, but I need to keep my average up if I want to get into a decent grad program. My grades especially matter this semester, since they'll be the most recent ones on my applications.”

“Sokka…” Zuko’s only musing aloud, already opening his laptop again to pull up some document. Sokka’s grateful for the moment of interruption so he can gather his wits again after the bolt of longing that went through his gut at hearing his name in that quiet rasp. 

Zuko turns back around and Sokka smiles. Zuko’s frown only deepens. “I remember your paper. It was well written, you just misunderstood the assignment.”

Sokka hates how much he appreciates the breadcrumb of praise from this guy. “How did I misunderstand? I read the instructions.”

“You took them too literally.”

“Aren’t the instructions what we’re _literally_ supposed to do?”

Zuko actually rolls his eyes. “Yes, but in this case you were asked to provide an analysis of the production, not just a summary.”

“I’m not sure I see the difference,” Sokka frowns.

“Well there’s your problem,” Zuko says, a tad harshly. Sokka’s ready to leave, thinking this conversation useless, when Zuko surprises him by continuing. “Why don’t you email me with some times that you’re free and we can set up a proper meeting to cover this then.”

Sokka blinks at him. The offer to help seems genuine, but then again that is part of Zuko’s job description. “Uh, yeah. Thanks. That would be great.”

Zuko’s response is a sharp nod. Sokka stands, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. 

He asks before his resolve crumbles or he thinks too hard about it. “Hey, maybe—could I get your number?”

Zuko’s entire body goes rigid. “What?”

“Your number? It might be easier to set something up that way. Or not! If you think it’s unprofessional, or something.”

There’s a long pause. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Sokka tries not to deflate at that. “Yeah, okay. No problem, I’ll email you. Sorry for interrupting tonight. Thanks for your help.”

Sokka’s out the door without another glance. What even _was_ that? Sokka swears to god he’s smoother than the last two encounters with this guy would suggest. 

**Aang:** hurry uppppp

**Sokka:** im coming calm down

**Aang:** Toph wants you to bring beer

**Aang:** she says not to cheap out like you usually do

**Sokka:** >:( 

**Sokka:** fine be there in twenty

It’s more like forty before Sokka’s stumbling through Toph’s door with booze tucked under each arm. His friends are all of age by at least a couple years, but somehow he’s still stuck being the designated buyer. 

If Suki draping herself over him when he’s barely through the door of Toph’s place is any indication, they didn’t really need Sokka to bring more alcohol. There’s already several bottles and cans on the coffee table, and everyone besides Aang has a drink in hand. 

Instead, he’s got an armful of Sokka’s sister. Katara’s melted into his side and looking up at him with an adoring smile on her face. It makes Sokka’s heart clench. He’s happy to see his sister happy, but do they need to be so obvious?

“You guys,” he whines, by way of greeting. “It’s a Thursday. Can we take it easy tonight? I get enough oogies from you two the rest of the time.”

Aang just smiles at him. Suki plants a kiss on Sokka’s cheek and steers him towards the couch. They flop down, and Sokka’s pressed between Toph and Suki.

“C’mon Snoozles, lighten up,” Toph says. “As if you and Suki weren’t that bad.”

“She’s right, Sokka. You were worse,” Suki says.

“Um, I think there were two of us involved? Why is it on me?”

“You’re way more touchy feely than I am,” she accuses. 

Sokka gives her a _look_ , because she was the one to bodily attach herself to him when he got here, and they aren’t even dating anymore. If what they did could be called dating. 

She rolls her eyes. Sokka rolls his eyes right back.

“Yeah, Sokka. And besides, it sounds like you might be the one giving us oogies with your new friend sometime soon,” Katara says. She punctuates it with an eyebrow raise that Sokka supposes is meant to be insinuating. In her inebriated state, it just makes her look alarmed. 

Sokka glares at Aang. “I text you _once_ and you tell them everything?”

“I had to! Katara cornered me and knew something was up. I can’t lie to her!”

“Aw, thanks sweetie,” Katara says.

“So who’s the girl?” Suki asks. “Anyone we know?”

Sokka wants to rescind his glare, because thank the heavens for Aang’s discretion. He’s not ashamed that he’s attracted to Zuko, but it’s new and confusing and he doesn't need the relentless questioning of his friends before he’s had a chance to figure it out himself. 

“Uh, just somebody from theatre class. Nobody you’d have met.” There. That’s not technically a lie.

“Bring them ‘round sometime. We’ll vet ‘em for you,” Toph says, and the smile on her face is nothing short of diabolical. Sokka grimaces to think of her and Zuko in the same room.

“Yeah, no. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Sokka, your love life has been lame for months. Get some, my friend!” Toph punches his arm.

“Hey! I do just fine!” he protests. 

Normally, he does do just fine. More than fine, often, if he puts the effort in. But he can’t deny that there’s been a recent dry spell. He could blame it on being busy, and that’s the case, no doubt, but it’s not the whole story. 

Sokka thinks maybe he’s getting too old to want casual hookups all the time. He’s easy, and he likes to have fun, but sometimes he looks at Aang and Katara and wants a taste of that. Of something more. 

“Guys, let up. I don’t want to hear about my brother’s sexcapades more than I already do,” Katara says. 

Toph laughs her ass off at _sexcapades_ and the conversation, thank god, moves onto teasing Katara about how she wouldn’t know a sexcapade if it landed in her lap. Aang listens in, gradually turning more and more red. 

It _is_ a Thursday, so while they drink and have fun, Sokka limits it to one beer and is content to listen more than participate for the night. He’s tired, and stressed. It’s an unusual combination for him. The tiredness is one thing, unfortunately familiar, but stress usually rolls off him with ease. 

Toph seems to be the only one who notices, and when she gives him her customary punch to the arm when he’s leaving, he thinks it’s a little softer than usual.

He’s back in his place by midnight. Campus housing generally sucks, though this year and last he’d gotten into the small townhouses at the edge of campus that are usually reserved for graduate students. An unexpected perk of being several years older than the average undergrad. It’s still kind of shitty, but he doesn’t have to deal with roommates and there are no restrictions on visitors, something he’s taken advantage of many times in the past.

He sends a quick text to the group chat to let everyone know he’s home. It’s a tradition between them all, and he sees that Aang and Katara have both sent their respective texts. Suki was planning to crash at Toph’s since she was a little too tipsy to get on the bus alone. 

Sokka strips and drops onto his bed. He’s exhausted, but strangely wired. He has a feeling sleep won’t be coming easily.

He doesn’t have a Friday morning class, so he might as well try to get some reading done now. He grabs his laptop to pull up the pirated textbook for his mechanical engineering class.

Sokka’s email is open with a new message window before he really has the chance to think about what he’s doing. The image of golden eyes fills his mind for a moment, and he slaps the laptop shut. 

Sokka stares at the computer for a few seconds. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling the tie free from his wolftail. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, and opens the computer again.


	2. In which Sokka cancels plans

Sokka takes a deep breath before knocking on the door to room 007 at nine the next morning. Apparently Zuko doesn’t sleep either, because the email confirming their appointment had come within thirty minutes of Sokka sending his request eight hours earlier. 

The door swings open to reveal Zuko, glowering and in an all grey and black ensemble that has Sokka doing a once over with his eyes. He darts his gaze up quickly, and over Zuko’s shoulder catches a glimpse of long black hair. His office mate must be in today. 

Zuko steps into the hall and closes the door behind him. 

“Good morning,” Sokka smiles. His own eyes are burning—he’s so tired—but Zuko looks as good as ever. 

Zuko forgoes a greeting. “We can go up to the main lobby. There’s usually a few tables free once the undergrad classes start.”

“Sure,” Sokka nods. “Or we can go to the coffee place above the bookshop. It’s always dead around this time.”

Zuko looks at him like he’s a puzzle. Sokka smiles wider and dares to elbow his arm softly. “Come on, let me buy you a drink. It’s the least I can do since you agreed to meet and help me out on short notice.”

“It’s my job,” Zuko mutters, but he nods and lets Sokka lead him up the stairs and out of the agriculture building to the bookstore a few buildings down. 

Silence lasts until they reach the counter, where Sokka orders a large iced coffee with extra sugar. 

“Jasmine tea,” Zuko says. 

“Anything in that?” the undergrad employee asks. 

Zuko gives her a look that has Sokka praying for her soul, despite not having a religious bone in his body. “Uh, I think plain is fine,” he says before Zuko can speak again. 

Sokka pays the girl, leaving a tip larger than he can afford. 

They sit down at a corner table and Sokka takes a large drink from his coffee. He closes his eyes for a moment, savouring the sweetness and the cold. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t also to mentally prep for just a second before dealing with Zuko. 

He opens his eyes and sees _something_ on Zuko’s face before golden eyes flick up to meet his. 

“Are you hungry?” Sokka asks.

Zuko looks confused. “No.”

“It’s on me, if you want something.”

“I’m good. Let’s discuss your paper.”

“Right. Well, you left pretty detailed notes, which I appreciate.” Zuko scowls and Sokka raises his hands in a placating gesture. “That’s not sarcasm, I really do appreciate it. You’re very thorough.”

Zuko mumbles something that sounds dangerously like a thanks, and Sokka grins.

“Like I said, it wasn’t badly written,” Zuko says, once more at an audible volume.

“But like you also said, I guess it just comes down to me not getting what we were supposed to do.”

“That much was clear.”

“Ouch, dude.”

“You don’t seem like the theatre type,” Zuko says, with a bluntness that Sokka is quickly coming to expect from him. 

“I’m not. I’m in engineering, fourth year. And yes, I’m older than the usual fourth year, but I didn’t quite have my shit together after high school and got started a few years late.”

Zuko tilts his head, reminding Sokka alarmingly of the raptors from _Jurassic Park_. “That must have been difficult,” he says, slowly. It’s a weak attempt at verbal empathy, but Sokka doesn’t peg most of what Zuko says as intentional abrasiveness. It’s more like he's trying to use a muscle he hasn’t flexed in a while.

Sokka feels a blush rise on his neck and thanks the powers that be for his dark complexion. “Uh, yeah, sometimes, I guess. It was harder to connect with some of the other students at first, but for the most part it’s been good. Gave me time to figure stuff out, you know? My sister started at the same time, and we’re close. She actually stayed home for an extra year after she graduated to keep my ass in line, even if she won’t admit it. I’m lucky to have her. She’s in biomedical sciences, probably going to be a doctor one day. I just want to...build stuff, I guess.” Sokka chuckles awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you my life story there. The point is I just need a final arts credit, and I thought theatre studies would be interesting.”

“And easy.”

Sokka’s face heats again. “Well, honestly...yeah.”

Zuko’s lips twitch. It’s the closest thing Sokka’s seen to a smile on the guy’s face, and even then it’s only slightly less than a frown. It strikes Sokka as a challenge—suddenly, he wants _nothing more_ than to see Zuko smile. 

“Why don’t you drop the class?”

“Are TAs usually in the business of telling students to drop their classes? I might have to report you to Pakku for that,” Sokka says, with mock seriousness.

Zuko’s back to scowling. _Damn_. “I’m in the business of telling you to get your ass in gear if you don’t want to fail this class. I don’t care whether you drop it or not.”

“Look man, I get that I’m not your typical theatre student. But I promise that I’m willing to try.”

Zuko holds his gaze while he sips his tea. Sokka glances at the long, pale fingers wrapped around the mug. 

He has some ideas for fingers like that, starting with—

“Okay.”

Sokka’s focus snaps back to Zuko’s face. “What?”

“I can help you.”

“Well I hope so, otherwise the school needs to rethink their TA hiring practices.”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “No, I mean that we can work together. My role is mostly grading for this course. It’s why you don’t see me in class, because I don’t need to be there. I get a rubric, and I assign a mark. Most students never bother to dispute it because it takes effort to come see me, and the few that do don’t stick around long enough to talk much.” He punctuates that point with a vague gesture to his face, and Sokka feels a flash of anger on his behalf. 

The scar doesn’t diminish Zuko’s appearance, and it sure as hell doesn’t give anyone an excuse to think less of him. On the other hand, if the constant glaring scares kids away...well. He can’t hold that against them. Zuko’s an intimidating guy.

“So,” Zuko continues, “I don’t get much face time with students. But I—” he clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “I like teaching. If you’re serious about doing well in this course, I can help you.”

It’s the most Zuko’s ever spoken at once to Sokka, and he seems to realize it. He’s looking everywhere but at Sokka, seeming suddenly uncomfortable. Sokka catches his eye and grins broadly. “Zuko, are you offering to be my tutor?”

Zuko sips his tea again before answering, grimacing slightly. “I guess so.”

“You’re amazing.”

Zuko looks absolutely startled. Sokka _loves_ it. Zuko starts to sputter, “I—uh, it’s not—”

Sokka saves him with, “Thanks, Zuko. Seriously.” He’s earnest—Sokka knows it’s a big favour, and even if he’s not offering to do it for free, it’s a time commitment that goes beyond his duties as a TA.

“You’re welcome,” Zuko says. Sokka delights in the blush he sees creeping across his fair cheeks. 

“Do you want to start now, or should we just enjoy our drinks and set up a time to meet later?”

“There’s nothing to enjoy about this tea,” Zuko grumbles. 

Sokka raises his brows. “I know you work in a tea shop and all, but is it that bad?”

“Yes,” Zuko says, very gravely. Sokka nods.

He says his next line only to see that delicious blush on Zuko again. He is not disappointed. “Next time I’ll treat you to something better, then.” _Like dinner_ , he doesn't say—he’s bold, but not quite there yet. 

Zuko just looks into his mug. Sokka smirks and pulls out his phone. He unlocks it and hands it to Zuko. 

“Put your number in,” he says. “I promise I won’t use it outside of setting up meetings.”

Zuko looks like he wants to refuse, but he reaches across the table to grab the device and takes a moment to punch in a new contact. He hands it back to Sokka. 

Sokks sees the contact name and laughs. 

“Dude. ‘Zuko Theatre TA’? I don’t know that many Zukos, and even if I did, you’re pretty memorable.”

It’s somehow _absolutely the wrong thing_ to say. Sokka can almost _hear_ the wall come down as Zuko goes entirely stone faced. He scrambles to clarify. “Shit, no. I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I meant it in a good way! In a you’re very-smart-and-secretly-nice-and-also-super-mysteriously-attractive kind of way!”

_Kill me_. Sokka holds back a groan. He just called his TA attractive. To his very attractive face. 

Zuko just fucking _stares_. Sokka can feel his soul leaving his body. 

“Yeah. Well, shit. Sorry. I’ll just go, don’t worry about helping me out—”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m really sorry, I—”

Zuko cuts him off again. “I can’t be too upset when you just called me very smart and mysteriously attractive. I take offense to the secretly nice part, though.”

Sokka blinks. “Was that a joke?”

“Absolutely not,” Zuko deadpans, and Sokka’s already starting to chuckle slightly, but then Zuko’s lips tilt up into the barest ghost of a grin and _holy shit_. Sokka’s dazzled just by that—it might be physically dangerous if he were to see Zuko really smile. He takes a deep drink of his iced coffee to distract himself before speaking again. 

“Uh, yeah, so I guess I’ll text you?”

“Sure. My schedule is fairly flexible since I’m done with my coursework. I work most weekday afternoons at the tea shop, though.”

“Great. Where do you prefer to work? I can book a room at the library,” Sokka suggests. He’s most comfortable studying at his place because he generally gets too distracted with lots of other people around. Somehow, though, he doesn’t think Zuko will be up for spending time in his apartment. 

“Wherever is fine with me.”

“Okey dokey,” Sokka says, and then asks himself why the hell he’d say that when he’s never said _okey dokey_ to anyone, ever, and moves to push back his chair. 

Zuko stands as he does, leaving his unfinished tea on the table. Sokka grabs it to walk it back to the counter, and when he drops it off he’s surprised to find Zuko still waiting for him at the entrance of the coffee shop.

Sokka smiles as he approaches. “Forget something?”

“Uh, no. I just—we didn’t really talk about the specifics of where you went wrong with your paper.”

“We can do that the first time we meet, it’s okay. The grade you gave me was fair based on what you’ve explained to me, so I don’t have any problems with that. I just want to do better next time. And ideally not totally bomb the midterm.”

“Tomorrow?”

Sokka takes a second to realize Zuko’s asking if he wants to meet tomorrow. “It’s a Saturday,” he points out.

“Oh. Right. Sorry, just let me know, then. Anytime.”

Sokka hurries to correct him. “No, no. Saturday is fine. I don’t have any plans.”

That’s not strictly true, but they’re easily cancelled. 

Zuko nods, a jerky motion of his chin. The guy seriously needs to lighten up. “Okay.”

“Which way are you walking?”

“Back to my office.”

“Great, my next class is that way. Mind if I walk with you?”

Sokka’s next class is not that way, and it’s also not for another two hours. 

“Okay.”

It’s a short walk to the agricultural building, and Sokka stops at the doors. Zuko also pauses, still looking supremely uncomfortable. 

“Why do you have an office here, anyway?” Sokka asks. “I mean, wouldn’t a desk in the languages department make more sense?”

Zuko shrugs. “I’d rather have privacy.”

“You share a space. With that girl I saw.”

“Mai,” Zuko says. “We’re...old friends.”

Sokka nods as if this is a reasonable explanation for his desk being located in the basement of a building labeled _Crop Science_. “Cool. Well, thanks again for—”

“Thanks for the tea,” Zuko blurts, a little loudly. Sokka smiles. This guy is _adorable_. 

“Of course. Next time it’ll be better, I promise.” He shifts his bag. If he stands here any longer, this interaction is going to get far more awkward than it already is. “Enjoy the rest of your day,” he says, and offers a wave before turning away. 

Sokka resists the urge to turn back toward Zuko again and instead pulls out his phone as he walks back in the direction he came from. 

He sends two texts, the first a quick _hey this is Sokka’s number :)_ to Zuko, and the second to Aang.

**Sokka:** buddy im in need of your freaky wisdom

**Sokka:** cute tea guy is also my TA and my brain malfunctions around him

**Aang:** did you ask him out???

**Sokka:** thats not wisdom 

**Sokka:** also no, is that even allowed?

**Aang:** if this institution stands in the way of love then we’ll have a problem

**Aang:** i will fight for you, Sokka

**Sokka:** thanks bro but chill, its not love

**Aang:** then what is it? Because you sound like me when i first met your sister

**Sokka:** first, ew. second, I dont know what it is. i’ve never liked a dude before

The phone buzzes and Sokka hits the notification for Zuko’s response like he’s being sent the cure for cancer. 

**Zuko Theatre TA:** Got it. Thank you again for the tea. As discussed, let me know when and where you would like to meet tomorrow. 

Sokka sighs. Literature Phd for sure. He flips back to the conversation with Aang.

**Aang:** its new and exciting!!

**Sokka:** sure

**Sokka:** thanks for keeping this between us for now

**Aang:** we’re all here for you though, i hope you know that

**Sokka:** i do

**Sokka:** also i’m not gonna be able to make the movie tomorrow evening 

**Aang** : whyyyy

**Aang:** i bought these tickets weeks ago!!!!

**Sokka:** take Katara

**Aang:** you know she hates these movies

**Sokka:** she loves you though so she’ll go

**Aang:** fiiiine but you ditching me better be for a good reason

**Sokka:** im pretty sure it is

Sokka puts his phone away as he reaches the building where his only Friday class is held. He feels a little bad for blowing off Aang. The guy did buy the tickets weeks ago, and Sokka does love a good terrible monster movie. 

He soothes his guilt by reminding himself that they’re still going to have a study session with the rest of the gang early in the afternoon. And Sokka wants to keep his evening clear for Zuko.

He wonders briefly if he should be having an existential crisis about his newfound attraction to another man at the age of nearly twenty five. So far he’s surprisingly calm about the whole thing. For starters, there’s no guarantee that Zuko is into men, and even if he was, there’s no guarantee he’d be into Sokka (though Sokka has a hard time believing that many people of any gender could resist his charm for long). Sokka’s family wouldn’t care if he dated a man, and neither would his friends. He also wouldn’t love himself any less, and that’s what matters, really. So for now he’s content to enjoy the crush, mildly confusing as it is, and see what happens. If Zuko returns the interest, Sokka will...cross that bridge when he comes to it. 

He’s excited for Saturday in a way he hasn’t been excited for anything in months. He pulls his phone back out as he settles onto the floor of the building lobby to wait for his class. 

**Sokka:** how does tomorrow at the library sound? 5pm, fourth floor?

**Zuko Theatre TA:** I will see you then.

The rest of Friday drags.

———

Sokka groans as he pushes through the doors of the Jasmine Dragon. Aang had sent him the text saying they’d decided to move their study session from Toph’s place to the tea shop, which means that they plan to actually study. Study sessions at Toph’s place are code for general debauchery, but somebody must need to get actual shit done for the venue to be changed last minute. 

Honestly, it works in Sokka’s favour. He has so much shit to get done. He just doesn’t want to risk running into Zuko before their scheduled meeting at the library.

Not because he doesn’t want to see him, because Sokka really wants to see him. He just doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of his friends. 

The universe doesn’t give a damn about what Sokka wants.

His friends are already crammed around a table at the corner, and they’ve only met a few times but Sokka recognizes the silhouette of his TA instantly, even from the back. 

“Sokka!” Aang cries. 

Zuko turns, a surprised look on his face. Sokka waves, lamely. “Hi, guys. Hi, Zuko.”

“Hi,” Zuko says. Aang frowns and Toph grins. 

“You two know each other?” she asks. 

“Uh, yeah. We just met recently. Here, actually. Then it turns out that Zuko’s a TA for one of my classes. Small world, right?” he babbles.

“TA? But Toph said Zuko’s an arts grad student,” Katara says. Aang's eyes go wide as he makes an obvious connection. For all that he's some kind of spiritual and intellectual prodigy, the kid can be dense sometimes. Sokka tries not to be irritated at him for not realizing there's only going to be so many tea servers at a tiny shop like this. But really, _come on_. 

“I TA undergrad theatre studies,” Zuko says. His voice is even quieter than usual. 

“Holy shit,” Toph starts. “Somebody from theatre class. You’re—”

“Going to be reading a lot of bad papers from this guy,” Aang cuts in, jerking his thumb toward Sokka. “Poor Zuko! Ha-ha!”

Toph, mercifully, for perhaps the first time in her goddamned life, takes the hint.

“He’s already had the misfortune once,” Sokka says, trying for a smile as he slides into the empty seat beside Toph. The lovable little freak can probably hear his heart racing. “How do you and Zuko know each other, anyway?”

“I’m a friend of the owner,” Toph says. This isn't surprising, given Toph's propensity to make friends in strange places. 

“My uncle. Iroh,” Zuko clarifies. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize the owner was your uncle,” Katara says, surprised. “He’s so lovely. Is he also the one that makes the cookies?” She gestures to a plate of assorted cookies on the table. 

“Yeah.”

“He’s a genius,” Aang says, mouth full of said cookies. 

“I’ll tell him you said that,” Zuko says. He turns to Sokka. “What can I get you?”

Sokka glances at the menu still in the center of the table, then back to Zuko. “Whatever you gave me last time was really good. I’ll just have that again.”

Zuko nods. “Jasmine. That’s what it’s supposed to taste like.”

Sokka laughs. “I’ll take notes.”

Zuko graces him with a tiny smirk before turning to get the tea. Sokka looks back at his friends, and realizes he still has a dopey grin on his face. He drops it when he sees everyone staring at him, minus Toph, who smiles wickedly at the table like the chaotic demon she is.

“Not a word,” he says. 

Katara’s mouth works for a moment, like a fish, then she shakes her head sharply and turns back to Aang. 

Sokka leans closer to Toph as his sister and her boyfriend pick up their conversation. “No Suki today?”

“Nah, she had an emergency club meeting. Something about the gym needing to close for renovations.” Toph smirks. “You’re telling me you want your former lover here to watch you moon over the cute tea boy?”

“It’s just wrong to hear you say lover.”

“Fuck buddy. That better?”

“Geezus, Toph. No it’s not better! And I’m not mooning!”

“Sure you’re not, Snoozles. I don’t need to _see_ to see that you’ve got a massive hard-on for this guy. At least tell me he’s hot.”

Sokka sighs, and risks a glance back to where he can see Zuko’s form moving around—brewing tea, presumably—past the half-wall that separates the seating area from the back. He sighs again, a little more wistfully. “Yeah, he’s hot.”

Toph snickers, and Zuko’s back a moment later with a tray of mugs and individual teapots. Sokka admires his profile as he leans over the table slightly to pour for each of them in turn. With his left side facing Sokka, he takes the opportunity to study Zuko’s scar, or what he can see of it from under his unbound hair. 

It should be an ugly thing, the large swath of angry red skin that curls up to engulf his ear. It looks dry and gnarled, and Zuko’s left eye is set in a permanent slit. To think of the pain he must have been in when whatever happened to do that kind of damage occurred—Sokka shudders internally. 

It should be an ugly thing, but it’s not. Maybe on someone else it would be, even if Sokka tries his damnedest never to judge someone based on looks. It’s a piece of Zuko, and Sokka can’t imagine his face without the character of the scar. His initial impression holds true—Zuko is easily the most beautiful person Sokka thinks he’s ever seen. The scar is just a small part of that. 

Sokka hopes that Zuko doesn’t hate it, but he knows that’s a tall order. 

“Can I get anyone anything else?” Zuko’s low rasp breaks into his thoughts.

Sokka startles as he sees that Zuko is looking directly at him; he’s certainly been caught staring. He wrenches his eyes away to search his friends’ faces, and then smiles back at Zuko. It’s more than a little shaky.

God, he can be an asshole sometimes. 

“We’re great, thanks,” Sokka tells him, and the other man nods and turns away.

The group settles into a mediocre study session. Sokka takes an opportunity a half hour later to walk up to the half-wall where Zuko is working. He carries his now-empty teapot with him.

Zuko looks up as he approaches. “Need a refill?”

“No. Well, yes, but that’s not why I came over here.” Zuko waits with a furrowed brow, and Sokka continues, “I should apologize. I was being really insensitive. Again.”

Zuko drops his gaze and fiddles with a few of the tea canisters in front of him. “I’m used to it,” he mumbles. “Kind of hard not to draw attention with a crater over half your face.”

Zuko sounds so _broken_ when he says it that Sokka wants to roar. He settles for reaching a hand out and laying it gently on Zuko’s shoulder. He tenses, but doesn’t pull away. “No, man, that’s not what it was. It’s...interesting, okay? It makes you, _you_.” Sokka huffs an embarrassed laugh. “You already heard me call you attractive, so I mean, you know what my opinion is. I’m not gonna say it again just to stroke your ego.”

He tries for a joking tone. Zuko doesn’t really seem to _do_ joking, though, and instead he lifts his head to very seriously hold Sokka’s gaze for a long moment. “Thank you,” he mutters, finally. 

Sokka gives a final squeeze and drops his hand from Zuko’s shoulder. “No problem, buddy.”

He waits for Zuko to fill the teapot with more hot water. When he turns to hand it back, Zuko asks, “Want to work here when you’re done with your friends? I live above the shop. My uncle might be back later tonight, but Jin’s coming in for the closing shift so I’m done at four thirty.”

Sokka pauses, heart hammering, and Zuko misinterprets.

“Or not, we can reschedule. I know it’s Saturday and you probably have things to do—”

“Zuko,” Sokka interrupts, smiling widely, “That sounds great.”


	3. In which Sokka trips over a trope

Sokka only hears half the remaining conversation when he ends up back at the table with the others, and he processes even less of the course material he’s trying to read. 

Toph eventually suggests they move to her place. Aang and Katara decline, saying they’re going to grab a bite to eat before the movie. Aang shoots Sokka a grin, and he sends back a look that he hopes says _Dude, that’s still my sister_. He’s alone with Toph when they leave. Her feet are up on one of the recently vacated chairs, and she doesn’t seem to be in any rush to leave the tea shop.

Sokka looks around for Zuko, doesn’t see him, and braces himself.

“Wanna tell me more about it?” she asks. She finishes the last of her tea like it’s a shot, setting the mug back down with an obnoxious rattle. 

“Not really.”

“Too bad. So are you gonna ask him out?”

“I barely know the guy.”

“That’s what dates are for, to get to know someone better. But I guess you usually skip over that part, huh?”

“Toph!”

“It’s true. How many people have you actually _dated_ before getting into bed with them?”

Sokka has to think about this for a moment. There was Yue, just after high school, but that had ended—terribly. Suki could have been something more, but Sokka never took that step with her and before he was ready she had already moved on. For all that Sokka’s gotten around, he’s never been one for relationships.

“Not many,” he admits. 

“Right. Is that your plan for Zuko, too? I don’t know him that well either, but I know Iroh, and the old man never shuts up about his nephew.”

This is the elusive Serious Toph. For all her sarcasm and boldness, Sokka can tell when she cares about the conversation. “I don’t know what I want, yet,” he says, slowly. It’s not the whole truth. He knows what Little Sokka wants, but he’s not about to start letting him make the decisions. Zuko deserves better than that. 

“Figure it out before you hurt someone. I don’t want to have to find a new tea place.”

Sokka rolls his eyes, knowing that Toph can’t see it but trusting that she’ll get the message anyways. 

The thing is, she’s not wrong. Sokka doesn’t want to get hurt, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to hurt _Zuko_. Sokka’s easygoing, sure, but he’s not oblivious and he can tell when someone has some shit to work through. Zuko has mountains of shit. That much is obvious.

Toph pays the bill for everyone’s tea and cookies by way of throwing an excessive amount of cash on the table. Sokka waits outside with her until her cab arrives, makes sure she gets in okay, and then heads back into the Jasmine Dragon to wait for Zuko. It’s almost four thirty. Sokka’s trying not to sweat. 

_It’s just a study session, you idiot. Cool it._

“Sokka?”

He turns and smiles at Zuko. He’s no longer wearing an apron. “Are you done your shift?”

“Yeah. Jin just came in through the back. Give me a minute to update her and I’ll come back to show you upstairs.”

“Of course.”

Zuko is back a moment later, and Sokka stands to follow him into the back of the shop. Sokka waves to the cute girl tying an apron around her waist—Jin, presumably. She offers a friendly smile back. 

Zuko pushes open a door and heads up the stairs. Sokka decidedly does _not_ check out his ass as they walk up. It’s a difficult thing, with the way Zuko’s black jeans fit a little snugly, but he manages. 

There’s maybe one peek. It’s a nice ass, okay?

The apartment is small like the shop below it, and very sparsely decorated. “You live with your uncle?” Sokka asks, as Zuko closes the door behind them.

“Yes. I know it’s a bit strange…”

Sokka waves that off. “No way. It must be nice to save money and live with family.”

“I suppose.”

There’s a pause where Zuko’s just kind of looking at Sokka like he’s waiting for him to do something, but that’s exactly what Sokka’s waiting for, and really, Sokka isn’t going to complain about more time to just _look_ at Zuko.

Finally, he turns to survey the space again. “Did you guys move here recently?”

“Over the summer, once Uncle moved the shop. It’s a new location for us. Better foot traffic.”

“No kidding. You must be raking it in with the students around.”

“I guess so. Mostly they like the study space, and they don’t always buy enough tea to justify spending hours at a table.”

“That’s not surprising. I’ve definitely pissed off a barista or two by commandeering a table for an afternoon.” They’re still standing near the door. “Dining area?” Sokka asks. 

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Let me grab my computer.”

Sokka has set up his own laptop at the dining table when Zuko emerges from down the short hallway. He’s changed out of his button down and into a soft grey t-shirt that shows off his arms. Sokka’s staring a bit when Zuko sits down. 

He hadn’t been mistaken in assuming there were some nice muscles on the guy. 

“Everything alright?” Zuko asks. 

Sokka smiles easily. “Yeah, all good. Where should we start with this?”

“I think the best place would be to go through your paper, then discuss any of the concepts that have been giving you trouble from class so far.”

“Do you have time today to discuss the midterm?”

Zuko raises his eyebrow, and Sokka rushes in with, “I’m not asking for answers or anything like that. But if there are any tips you can give me, or what to expect, that would be cool.”

“Sure. Let’s get through this stuff first, then we can talk about the exam.”

“You are the best, Zuko.”

Zuko flushes. It’s easy to get him to do that, Sokka’s realizing, and praise or admiration of any kind seems to be the trigger. 

That piece of info gets filed away neatly in Sokka’s mind. 

Zuko is a good teacher. He’s not the most patient, but he does take the time to explain things thoroughly even when Sokka struggles to grasp some of the foundational concepts. He’s blunt, bordering on harsh in his corrections, but that’s fine. Sokka can take it. 

What he can’t take is the distracting sight of Zuko’s gorgeous arms and collarbone and face sitting across from him for two hours. It’s almost a relief when Zuko looks at the clock and remarks that Sokka must be hungry by now. They’ve covered a lot of material and Sokka does feel better about the course. He’s also hungry. Always. 

“Yeah, I should really let you go,” Sokka says, closing his laptop. “Any big plans for the rest of Saturday night?”

“Oh, no. Not really.”

“That’s cool, too. Taking some time off is important,” Sokka nods. 

“Right.”

Sokka looks up from zipping his bag to see Zuko watching him. His stomach flutters. “Thanks again, Zuko. This was really helpful. How much do I owe you?”

“What?”

“For the tutoring? If you prefer to just keep a tab and let me know later, that’s fine.”

Zuko’s watching switches to glaring at the wall, his body rigid. His fists are balled on the table. How is it possible that Sokka keeps messing up so badly with this guy?

“Are you okay?” he asks, cautiously, because he doesn’t need a fucking psych degree to see that Zuko is not okay. 

“You want to know how much you owe me,” Zuko bites out.

Sokka rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. I mean, I just didn’t want to take advantage of you. You’re offering your time, and you’re so helpful. People just don’t do that shit for free, man.”

Zuko softens a little, just a bare loosening of his fists. “Oh.”

Sokka has an idea. He hates the idea, and hopes that his instincts are wrong, but they rarely are. He breathes in and takes the risk by reaching a hand out to touch his fingertips to Zuko’s forearm. “Zuko,” he says, waiting until golden eyes meet his own. “This is not me saying that the only way I’d want to spend time with you is with a financial transaction involved.”

Zuko blinks like somebody just told him his dog got sent to a farm upstate. 

Sokka carries on. “Honestly, I think you’re cool. I’d be lucky to hang out with you without the excuse of studying. I mean that,” he adds, with emphasis.

He’s still touching Zuko’s arm, and he sees the other man flick his eyes down to that point of contact and back up. “Sorry,” he says. “I guess, uh, yeah. Maybe I’m not used to people wanting to be around me for longer than they have to be. I wasn’t planning on asking for money. I like this—this course, I mean, and talking about this stuff."

Sokka pulls his hand back regretfully. He’d much rather slide it up, feel Zuko’s skin under his own palms. “That’s what makes you so cool. Seriously, who does things like that? And I do want to be around you. If you’re okay with that.” His usual confidence wanes when Zuko’s in proximity, and it’s hard to get a read on the guy, so Sokka hopes that he hasn’t completely misunderstood something here. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice.”

Sokka beams across the table. “Great. But really man, don’t feel obligated to make time for me. I’m sure you’re busy as all hell between work and school, and I don’t want to stress you out.”

“You don’t stress me out,” Zuko says, a little quickly. Sokka just smiles again and stands, hefting his back over a shoulder. 

“Cool. So I guess I’ll text you when I check my schedule for the week?”

“Okay.” Zuko stands to show Sokka the door. It opens before they reach it to reveal the older tea shop man, Iroh.

He sees Sokka immediately and smiles widely. “Ah, hello again, young man! You were a new customer a couple of weeks ago, yes? I see we must have really won you over.”

Sokka sticks his hand out. “Sokka, sir. Nice to officially meet you.”

Iroh shakes his hand with a hearty chuckle before looking to Zuko. “Nephew, you never told me you had made a new friend. And what a well-mannered boy, much better than th—”

“Uncle, Sokka was here to study. He’s just on his way out.”

Sokka might ordinarily be offended that Zuko wants to get rid of him so quickly, but the blush rising on his cheeks makes it difficult. “Nonsense,” Iroh says. “A growing boy should stay for dinner.”

Sokka laughs. “I think I’m well past my growing years, thanks though, sir.”

“Call me Iroh. And there’s more than one direction to grow,” he says, patting his own substantial belly. Sokka laughs again. He likes this guy already. 

“Maybe next time, Iroh. Talk to you later, Zuko,” Sokka says with a wave. Zuko gives an awkward wave back, and Sokka slips out the door. 

**———**

It’s been three days. Sokka hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Zuko. He hasn’t texted to set up another meeting, even though his fingers have itched to open their conversation every time he’s on his phone. 

It’s Tuesday, and the last time he saw Zuko was Saturday. The midterm is Monday. It’s not too soon to ask for another meeting, right?

**Sokka:** hey, how was the rest of your weekend?

The reply comes almost instantly. Sokka grins like an idiot as he walks across the campus courtyard. 

**Zuko Theatre TA:** Fine, thank you. Yours?

**Sokka:** good, thanks man

**Sokka:** are you free for a meet up this week?

**Zuko Theatre TA:** Sure. When would you like to meet?

_Right the hell now_. Sokka has never been patient. 

**Sokka:** you working tonight?

**Sokka** : i can meet you at the tea shop if that works for you

**Zuko Theatre TA:** We close at 9. That’s not too late for you?

**Sokka:** nah, not a problem. I’ll see you at 9 :)

**Zuko Theatre TA:** Okay. See you tonight.

**Sokka:** hey guys i won’t be at Toph’s tonight sorry

**Katara:** Seriously, Sokka? You’re bailing again?

**Suki:** this guy must really be something

**Sokka:** AANG WHY

**Aang:** i didnt say anything!!!

**Toph:** sorry Snoozles, that one was me. But we all got to witness your brilliant display in the tea shop 

**Sokka:** we spoke for like a minute

**Suki:** i hear it was a pretty intense conversation though

**Suki:** lots of pining 

**Katara:** I don’t know guys, I didn’t get a good vibe from him 

**Sokka:** he’s a good guy!

**Sokka:** also there is NO PINING 

**Suki:** sure Sokka 

**Aang:** we should all be supporting Sokka 

**Toph:** i do support him 

**Toph:** go get laid, Snoozles!

**Katara:** No need to be vulgar, Toph

**Sokka:** I hate all of you and I just NEED TO PASS THEATRE OKAY?!?!

**Aang:** just don’t leave us hanging. We miss you

**Sokka:** i see you literally almost every day 

**Aang:** :’’’(

Sokka shoves his phone away. He can feel it buzzing in his pocket, the conversation moving on without him. He loves his friends more than anything in the world, but they’re all opinionated people and he doubts that any of them will really get Zuko. Except Aang. That hardly counts, since Aang would give Freddy Krueger a second chance. 

Sokka spends the evening after his classes finish in the engineering lab, trying to get ahead of a project that he’s been hearing rumours about in the engineering circles since second year. Apparently Professor Jeong Jeong is kind of insanely brutal when it comes to marking. Sokka believes it, based on the first month of lectures with the guy. Thank god he’s not overloaded this semester.

It’s nearly nine when he works out a kink he’s been struggling with, and he books it across the dark campus to the Jasmine Dragon. 

The place is closed, and only a faint light comes from the back. He can’t see into the shop well with the street lights reflecting off the glass that makes up the front of the shop. He knocks on the door. 

Zuko’s pale face appears in the window a few seconds later, and he opens the door to usher Sokka in. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Sokka says, walking ahead into the shop. He turns when he hears the door lock click. Zuko’s not wearing his apron, but he has a broom in his hand.

“We just closed up. You’re not late,” he says. 

“Great.” Sokka looks around at the chairs on the tables. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Um, no that’s—”

Sokka spies a mop bucket and steps towards it. “You sweep, I mop?” he says, and Zuko nods after a small pause. 

They clean in companionable silence—well, Sokka hopes Zuko thinks it’s companionable—until the floors are done and Zuko says, “Thanks for your help. I’ll just empty the water and we can go.”

“Nah, let me get it. Where can I dump it?”

Zuko leads him to the back, where there’s an industrial steel sink. Sokka hoists the mop bucket up and empties it slowly, trying not to splash. It’s heavy, and his arms are straining by the time he lowers it. 

Zuko’s watching him closely again. It’s a feeling Sokka’s starting to get used to, but he’s not sure how to interpret it. Zuko is kind of like a bird. Delicate, and eager to come to the feeder, but wary. One wrong move and he’ll flit away instantly. 

Sokka’s not good at analogies. 

“Do you do any sports?” Zuko asks, a total non sequitur. 

“Oh, not really. A couple intramurals, hockey mostly, back before third year. Now I just try to get to the gym when I can, but it’s hit and miss.”

“It looks like you make it plenty,” Zuko says. 

Sokka preens a little, and can see Zuko’s embarrassment under the fluorescent lighting. He claps him on the shoulder gently as he passes to roll the mop into the corner. “Good to know I haven’t totally lost it. What do you do outside of being a grad student?”

“Some martial arts, since I was a kid. And fencing.”

“Seriously? Dude, that’s awesome. You have to show me something sometime.”

“Um. Maybe.” Zuko shifts. “We should head up. But my uncle is home, just a warning.”

“No problem. He seems like a great guy.”

“He is. I’ve lived with Uncle since high school.”

It might be the first personal information that Zuko has truly volunteered, and Sokka wants to know _so much more_. He wants to know everything that Zuko is willing to let him see. Still, there’s something behind that statement that tells him he’s better off not asking. Let Zuko come to him, when and if he’s ever ready.

Sure enough, Iroh is sitting at the table setting up some kind of game when Sokka follows Zuko into the apartment. He doesn’t look up from the setup as he beckons Zuko forward. “Ah, nephew. Excellent. Are you ready to play?”

Zuko clears his throat. Iroh looks up, surprise and then glee in his face. “Uncle, Sokka and I are going to study, if that’s alright by you.”

“Of course, of course. Can I interest Sokka in a game before you boys start your work?”

Sokka steps forward to look at the game. It’s a complex looking board with a huge assortment of tiles. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize this one, sir.”

“Iroh,” he gets corrected immediately. Then there’s a heavy sigh. “This generation is missing out on the joys of Pai Sho. Who will be around to carry on the old strategies?”

“Nobody, Uncle. It’s a boring game,” Zuko says. “Come on, Sokka. We can use my room.”

Sokka has to suppress the thrill that goes through him. He’s going to see Zuko’s room. Maybe he _will_ learn something more about him. He shoots Iroh an apologetic grin and shrug before following Zuko down the hall. 

Zuko’s room is as barren as the rest of the apartment. It’s a small space, occupied by a double bed (with a dark grey comforter, _shocking_ ) and a small nightside table, a dresser opposite that, and not much else. 

“No desk?” Sokka says.

“No space.”

Zuko drops onto the bed. It’s Sokka’s turn to feel discomfited. “Um,” he starts. 

Zuko reaches into the open compartment under his nightstand and pulls out a DVD case. “I thought, since Pakku's going to to be moving more into performance analysis soon, that we could watch a production.”

Sokka looks at what he’s holding. “ _Romeo and Juliet_? Are you for real?”

Zuko looks a little abashed, and runs a hand through his loose hair, pushing it back from his face for a second. 

It’s a nervous gesture, but coupled with the fact that Zuko is literally in bed, Sokka finds it unfairly appealing.

“It’s the only Shakespeare I had on hand.”

“Uh huh. Is Shakespeare a focus of the course?”

“Well, no. But it’s a good starting point.”

Sokka shrugs and sighs dramatically. “You’re the TA.”

Zuko smirks, grabbing his laptop to pop in the disc. He sets it up on the end of the bed, and slides over so that he’s sitting at the top of the bed against the wall. Sokka slips off his bag and gingerly lowers himself next to him, leaving a few inches of space. Zuko starts the video. 

Well. This is awkward. 

Sokka knows he should watch the movie, should really be analysing the performance or some shit, but he can’t stop looking at Zuko out of the corner of his eye. They’re so close that Sokka can feel the heat from his body, and if he leaned just slightly they would be touching. Sokka wants to close that distance so badly. 

He doesn’t. He settles a little lower on the bed and tries to follow the plot. He struggles to decipher some of the more flowery language, but he gets the gist. 

Sokka must fall asleep at some point, because he wakes up to the sound of Zuko’s voice and something very warm and soft under his cheek.

“Sokka,” Zuko says. There’s a warm hand on his upper arm, shaking slightly. Sokka buries his face into the warmth under him.

“Nnngh,” he whines.

He feels a puff of air flutter across his forehead and his pillow shifts. Did Zuko just... _laugh_? 

“Sokka, you should really get up.”

He opens his eyes, groggily blinking back the burn of interrupted sleep.

_Shit_. 

Sokka’s entire body tenses. He’s leaning into Zuko, an arm slung across his waist and his face smooshed into his chest. His legs are pressed against Zuko’s, and Zuko’s hand is still on his arm. He’s fucking _snuggling_ his TA. In his TA’s bed.

This wouldn’t be a problem if it had been Sokka’s plan for tonight, but it certainly was not. 

He scrambles upward, pushing away from Zuko to launch out of the bed. Zuko looks hurt for a split second before composing himself to study Sokka, who’s breathing a bit harder than usual as he adjusts his shirt. 

If it’s an overreaction, well. He wasn’t prepared for this. 

“Oh my god,” he says.

“You seemed like you really needed the sleep.”

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I don’t think you saw much of the movie, though.”

Zuko looks so calm. He’s still lying in bed, turned to the side a bit to watch Sokka. It’s totally at odds with the social awkwardness Sokka’s come to expect. 

He laughs nervously. “Yeah, I guess not. Maybe we need to have our sessions earlier in the day.” Then he winces, because seriously, _sessions_?

“Maybe.”

“It’s late. I should probably go.”

Zuko nods. “I’ll walk you out.”

“No, no. It’s alright,” Sokka squeaks. 

Zuko stands anyways, and suddenly he’s much too close in the small space of the room. Sokka steps back to open the door and heads into the hallway. “Sokka,” Zuko says.

“Yeah?” Sokka turns. Zuko’s holding out his bag with a questioning expression. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks,” he mumbles as he swipes the bag. 

He needs to get out of here before he pushes Zuko back onto the bed like he wants to. 

He lets Zuko walk him to the door of the apartment—thank _god_ Iroh seems to be in bed already—and through the tea shop to let him out. 

He takes a deep breath of the cool night air before turning to face Zuko. He’s still standing in the door of the Jasmine Dragon, arms crossed and hip against the frame. His hair’s a little mussed and his shirt is rumpled, probably from Sokka latching onto him like a horny koala, and Sokka wants to die. 

Not really, of course. Embarrassment is an unfamiliar feeling for someone as brash and confident as Sokka, though, and it kind of makes him feel like he _could_ die. 

“Sorry again for falling asleep on you.”

“It’s really fine. We can do a make up study session later this week, if you want. To do a final review before the midterm.”

“That would be great.”

“Okay. Text me, then.”

Sokka tries for a smile. “I will.”

Zuko smiles back.

Zuko smiles back, a real smile that entirely changes his face, and it’s the most beautiful goddamned thing Sokka’s ever seen. 

Fuck. 

He turns away with a wave before combusting on the spot. When he gets home and drops bodily into his own bed, it feels empty and cold. 

_Fuck_.


	4. In which Sokka gets Zuko a drink

**Sokka:** hey man sorry again about last night 

**Sokka:** i’m sure the movie was good, i hear there’s a murder or something 

**Zuko Theatre TA:** Have you not read the play? It’s pretty standard reading in high school English classes.

**Sokka:** yeah no i wasn’t huge on those at the time

**Zuko Theatre TA:** We can try it again sometime. There are a few murders. Though you might prefer something like Macbeth. 

**Sokka:** sounds great

Sokka unthinkingly types out a message asking Zuko if he wants to grab a drink this week. He quickly erases that, and sends another. 

**Sokka:** want to meet up tomorrow?

**Sokka:** we should maybe do the library though lol

**Sokka:** 2ish?

**Zuko Theatre TA:** Can we do 2:30? Let me know where you end up and I’ll meet you. 

**Sokka:** awesomesauce :)

They study at the library. Sokka trusts himself so little at this point that he doesn’t even book a private room. It doesn’t matter, because even in the open space of the library’s communal space, packed around midterm time, the worst distraction is still Zuko himself. After an hour, Sokka runs down to the main floor to grab drinks from the Starbucks. He needs to just _breathe_ for a second. As he waits for the drinks to be made, he texts Aang.

**Sokka:** man im so screwed with this guy 

**Aang:** Zuko???

**Sokka:** obviously 

**Sokka:** i cant believe im asking this but what did you do before Katara knew you existed?

**Aang:** rude :(

**Aang:** i was just myself, but like i always tried to make sure she knew how much i cared about her 

**Sokka:** it took like 2 years before she went out with you though

**Aang:** sure but i think the fact that we were such good friends first is part of why we work so well together

Friends. Sokka can do friendship—that’s probably what he should be focused on, really. Zuko seems like he could use more friends. Sokka’s never heard him talk about anyone other than Iroh for more than a passing comment. Sokka doesn’t realistically have time or energy for dating right now anyways, but he can be a good friend. Sokka’s a _great_ friend. 

**Sokka:** thanks Aang

**Aang:** :)))

Zuko looks up as Sokka places the drink under his nose, directly on top of the paper he’s reading. 

“Grading?” he asks, sitting across from him.

Zuko sets the cup to the side, nose wrinkled. “Mai asked me to read over her literature review.” He peers at the offending gift. “I told you I didn’t want anything.”

Sokka sips his own drink, a large frappuccino with more chocolate than is probably healthy to consume at one time, and smiles. “You did, but I think you’re a liar. At the very least, you seem like you could use the caffeine. It looks like you sleep about as much as me. Which is shit all, by the way.”

Zuko scowls. “I sleep plenty. What is this?” 

“Matcha latte. Unsweetened. Soy milk.”

Zuko looks shocked, but he’s not hesitant when he takes a deep gulp of the drink. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth when he sets it down. “Thanks,” he mutters. 

“Anytime. Now, can you please explain to me one more time what the hell _deadly theatre_ is? So far it’s not sounding as cool as the name implies.”

Zuko sighs heavily, without real malice, and they begin again. 

———

His sister nearly tackles him when he walks into his apartment. He returns the hug, looking over her shoulder. He’s shocked at the crowd of friends already draped over his meagre school-issue living room furniture. 

“Katara!” he says, holding her at arm’s length. “I gave you a key for emergencies! Not to use anytime Toph wants to trash someone else’s place for a change.”

“We wanted to surprise you,” she says, defensive. “It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together.”

He sighs and makes his way to the couch, kicking his shoes off on the way. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Lighten up, Sokka,” Suki calls. She comes out of the kitchen with a bowl of chips. 

“Seriously, Snoozles. What crawled up your ass?” Toph asks. 

“Toph,” Aang admonishes. “Be nice.”

“I’m always nice,” she shoots back. 

Katara perches on the arm of the couch to look down at Sokka. “Really, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired,” he says, truthfully. He didn’t feel tired when he was with Zuko, but exhaustion had slammed into him on the short walk home. 

“Let’s watch a movie or something,” Suki suggests, holding out the bowl for Aang to grab a handful. 

“None of your girly shit,” Toph declares, pointing vaguely towards Katara.

“Excuse me! _Love Actually_ is _not_ shit,” Katara spits.

“How about a nice comedy?” Aang says, ever the diplomatic one. 

“Like _John Wick_!” Toph says. 

There’s a long pause, where the others exchange concerned glances. Sokka breaks the silence. “We can watch that,” he says carefully. Toph smiles and settles back into her chair. 

“That’s not a comedy,” Katara says. 

“Don’t make her mad,” Suki whispers. 

“I can hear you, dummies.” 

“I’ll grab drinks,” Aang says, as he shoots out of his spot to scurry to the kitchen.

Sokka sighs and puts on the movie. 

———

Sokka doesn’t see Zuko or his other friends for the rest of the week, and he turns down several invitations from his friends over the weekend. He’s been so focused on his mech project and theatre studies that he’s a bit behind in some of his other classes, and that’s on top of midterms quickly approaching. 

Theatre studies is his first one. He spends the eighty minute class frantically scratching answers out onto his paper, worried that none of them are even coherent, but when the time’s up he feels like maybe he’s managed to piece something together that’s half decent. He could hear Zuko’s voice in the back of his head during certain questions, and if that’s a bit weird, hopefully it’s a good sign that he remembers some of this stuff. 

After, he picks up a pizza from the university center on the way home, shoves several slices into his face, and falls into bed without undressing. 

The rest of the week passes quickly, and he barely has time to prepare for his next midterm on Thursday. It’s for Jeong Jeong’s class, and it’s challenging, but Sokka can work with numbers and a clear right or wrong. That’s his wheelhouse—it’s almost fun, the problem solving that’s required. He’s still burned out by Friday morning. He takes the morning to lie in bed, browsing the internet with a show in the background. 

He thinks he’s earned the break.

He’s on the course portal to print out some notes for his afternoon class when he sees the notification for theatre studies. Midterm grades are posted already. He clicks the little orange bubble.

Sokka lets out a whoop in the middle of his empty apartment. Then he lunges for his phone. 

**Sokka:** Zuko my dude 

**Sokka:** you are the fucking best

**Sokka:** I got a 78 on the midterm 

**Zuko Theatre TA:** I’m aware, Sokka. I graded the exams. 

Sokka groans at his own stupidity, but his cheeks heat for a different reason as another message comes in.

**Zuko Theatre TA:** Well done. 

Sokka’s stomach jumps. _Friends_ , he reminds himself. _Be a good friend_. 

**Sokka:** we should go out to celebrate 

There’s a long few minutes before Zuko’s next response.

**Zuko Theatre TA:** What do you have in mind?

Sokka thinks of dinner (takeout), candlelight (he can probably dig up some tea lights somewhere, right?) and his bed with clean sheets (assuming he can find some quarters and a functioning laundry machine). 

That is not what he suggests. 

**Sokka:** you know Toph, yeah? we usually hang out at her apartment on the weekends, if you’re not working you should come over. Sometimes we stay there, sometimes we go out to a bar for some drinks

**Zuko Theatre TA:** Okay. Sounds fun.

**Sokka:** hell yes 

**Sokka:** gonna be such a good time. i can meet you at the tea shop and we can go together?

**Zuko Theatre TA:** Just let me know the time. 

**Sokka:** will do :)

Sokka’s nearly vibrating with excitement when he heads out to meet Zuko at the shop on Saturday evening. It’s dark already, but the tea shop has a few patrons that Sokka can see. Soft yellow light from the shop filters out onto the sidewalk.

It illuminates Zuko, leaning against the side of the building, just enough to make him look completely ethereal. He’s on his phone, and Sokka takes a moment to appreciate the grey v-neck sweater and slim fitting black pants he’s wearing. His hair is tied back, and Sokka likes it this way. He likes the Zuko that doesn’t hide his face. 

Zuko looks up as Sokka approaches and pushes himself off the bricks, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Hi,” he says. 

“Hey! Ready to go?”

“Yeah, all good.”

“Great. I figured since it’s not too cold tonight we could walk? It’s about twenty minutes from here.”

“Sure.”

They fall into step and Sokka has no clue what to talk about. Zuko’s passionate when they study, and he could listen to the man discuss theatre all day if it means letting that smoky voice wash over him. Outside of that, though, it’s hard to know what’s safe conversation. Zuko shares very little personal information, and Sokka doesn’t want to push too hard by asking too much. 

“You look really nice,” he says, trying to start something. 

“Oh. Uh, thanks. You look good, too.”

Sokka’s wearing his favourite jeans and a navy sweater with a wave pattern in the center, and knows for a fact that he does indeed look good. The sweater is also a favourite, picked up during a surfing trip on the west coast. “I do my best. Have you ever b—”

“You always look nice,” Zuko blurts. Sokka peers over at him, sees the way his eyes are trained on the sidewalk in front of his feet, and knows that he’s blushing. 

Their hands are swinging only inches apart. Sokka could so easily reach over and brush their knuckles together, entwine their fingers and pull Zuko a little bit closer. 

_Friends. Keep it in your pants._

“Thanks, man,” he says, smiling. He pauses for a bit, letting Zuko recover. “Want to tell me about your thesis? I still haven’t heard about it.”

That does it. Zuko’s eyes spark and he looks over at Sokka, the tension in his shoulders dissipating. Then he’s off. He’s a bit hesitant at first, like he thinks Sokka was just asking to be polite, but Sokka interjects genuine questions and nods and suddenly they’ve filled the time it takes to walk to Toph’s.

Sokka smiles at Zuko and gives an exaggerated eye wiggle that earns him an eye roll, then knocks loudly on the door of Toph’s apartment. 

Katara answers the door. Her broad smile drops when she sees Zuko, who is shifting a little behind Sokka’s shoulder. 

“Hey sis,” Sokka says, breezing past her. “How’s it going?”

“What’s he doing here?”

Sokka turns to where Katara is still staring at Zuko. Zuko’s already looking at Sokka with an accusatory expression. “You didn’t tell them I was coming,” he says. 

“What’s the hold up?” Suki yells.

“Close the damn door!” Toph adds. 

Katara huffs and waves Zuko into the foyer, then brushes past Sokka with a pointed glare. “Sokka brought a friend,” she calls to the others. 

“Great!” Aang shouts.

Sokka moves to Zuko and gives a comforting squeeze to his bicep. “My sister can be annoying, but everyone’s cool. Try to relax. Can I get you a drink?”

Zuko looks ready to refuse. He looks ready to bolt back onto the street, if Sokka’s honest, so he keeps a gentle grip on his arm until he nods. “Sure.”

Sokka smiles encouragingly and leads him further into the apartment, toward the living room where the others are. “You strike me as a gin and tonic kind of guy, but I think you’ll probably have to settle for cheap beer.”

Zuko smirks a little at that. “Is guessing my drink preferences a new pastime of yours?”

“Just getting to know my new friend,” Sokka says. “Was I wrong?”

“No.”

“I have a gift.”

“If you’re talking about your ability to be immensely obnoxious, sure. I’d call it a gift.”

Sokka slaps a hand to his chest and mock gasps. “I’m wounded, sir!”

“Stop flirting and bring me a beer!” Toph shouts. 

“Get your own damn beer!” Sokka shouts back, then proceeds to do exactly as she asks. 

When Sokka returns from the kitchen with three bottles, Zuko’s been cornered by Aang and herded onto a couch. He’s nodding politely as Aang chatters, but his eyes dart around a bit frantically. Sokka drops Toph’s drink into her hand and rushes to save him. 

Aang turns to him as he approaches. “Sokka, I was just telling Zuko about how we need another person for water polo. He could join us, then we’d have enough for an intramural team!”

“I didn’t know you played water polo,” Zuko says, looking at Sokka as he accepts the offered beer. 

“Oh, I do not. Katara did in high school and she’s been trying to get us all in on a team. I refuse, because she is fucking vicious in the water.”

“She’d be on your team,” Aang points out. 

“Vicious,” Sokka repeats. Zuko huffs a little, the closest thing yet to a laugh, and Sokka feels accomplished. 

“I’m not a great swimmer,” Zuko tells Aang. “But I appreciate the offer.”

“Well, let us know if you change your mind. We’d be happy to have you,” Aang says. There’s another knock at the door and Aang leaps up to get it.

Sokka drops into the couch beside Zuko, but before he can speak, Suki materializes to perch on his knee. 

“So this is your new friend,” she says without preamble. She’s eyeing Zuko in a curious, slightly critical way. It makes Sokka uncomfortable. 

“Uh, yeah. Zuko, this is Suki. She’s also into martial arts, like you,” he says. It’s an awkward introduction, but how can it not be when his sort-of ex and very-much crush are in the same space?

“Yeah? What do you do?” Suki asks.

Zuko answers readily, and they ease into a conversation that’s a little stilted due to Zuko’s social ineptitude, but good enough. Sokka relaxes a little and looks around the room. 

Haru is with Aang, and _hoo boy_ does Sokka hope that his energetic friend remains oblivious to the glances Haru is sending Katara’s way. Not that anything would happen if he noticed. Aang’s tattoos and ability to kick pretty much anyone’s ass don’t actually equate to him engaging in any sort of confrontation. Like, ever. 

“Haru!” Sokka calls. “What the fuck is on your face?”

Haru fingers his reedy moustache self-consciously. “I’m trying a new look,” he says. 

“It’s certainly bold,” Suki says.

“I hate it,” Sokka adds. 

“I think you look great!” Toph says. 

Laughter erupts. Suki leaves Sokka’s knee—thank god, the girl is all muscle and heavier than she looks—and he checks in with Zuko.

“Sorry about them,” he mumbles.

“No need to be sorry. I think they’re really nice,” Zuko says. Sokka smiles, and he’s content to watch Zuko watch the group. 

It’s a fantastic night. Drinks and banter flow, he gets to catch up on all the gossip he’s missed this semester, and he’s pressed flush against Zuko on the couch. If Zuko leans over a little closer to leave room between him and Toph on the other side, well, Sokka doesn’t mind. 

Sokka’s four—five?—drinks in and feeling amazing when it goes to shit. 

Toph and Katara were getting into it over something. Sokka’s not sure what. He’d been distracted by the smell of Zuko’s hair and wondering idly if he should get another tattoo. Somewhere in the conversation the focus had shifted to him, though, and Katara’s waving at him angrily as he watches. 

“Sokka, will you please tell Toph that friends with benefits is a bad idea?”

Sokka shakes his head a little. “Why?”

“Because it’s a bad idea!”

“Katara, why do you care? Stay out of it!” Toph shouts. 

“I care about you! Those arrangements never work out. Somebody’s going to get hurt.”

“It worked for Sokka and Suki.”

Zuko’s head turns to look at Sokka, and Sokka flushes. “I think that was a rare case,” he says. He’s actually pretty certain casual stuff can be safe and healthy and fun, but he’s not in the headspace to argue. He sees Suki nod in agreement from her chair. 

Toph makes an exasperated sound and rises from her seat. “I can’t stand you trying to mother me anymore! I can take care of myself and I don’t need you to meddle in my life choices.”

Katara’s eyes look ready to bulge from her head. Sokka looks to Aang, who’s clearly going to be useless here, and sighs. “Toph,” he starts, gently. He’s too buzzed for this. “I think we all just want you to make sure that you’re considering your actions carefully. You _should_ live your life the way you want to. We just want you to be safe and take care of yourself, that’s all.”

“Oh, consider my actions, is it? The way you’re considering your actions with tea boy over here?”

Sokka raises his hands. “Whoa, no need t—”

“No really, Sokka,” Katara cuts in. “What do any of us know about this guy? I mean, _look at him_.”

The room goes silent. 

Zuko’s stiff as a board beside Sokka for an instant, just before he starts to tremble slightly. 

Then he lurches up, bolting from the room without a word. The front door slams a second later. 

Sokka seethes. “Un-fucking-called for, Katara.”

She finches. “Sokka, I didn’t m—”

Sokka follows Zuko out the door so he doesn’t have to listen to her anymore. 

Zuko’s already halfway down the block. Sokka jogs to catch up. He grips Zuko’s shoulder and is roughly shaken off, but Zuko whirls to look at him. 

His mouth opens, then closes. Sokka jumps in. “Zuko, I’m sorry. That was not cool.”

There’s a long pause. Zuko’s tense, his fists balled at his sides, and Sokka is legitimately worried that he’s going to get hit. He’d probably deserve it.

Zuko does not hit him. He just meets Sokka’s eyes, and _oh god_. There’s some wetness there. 

“Zuko, talk to me,” Sokka pleads, a little desperate. 

“There’s nothing to say.” Zuko’s voice is rougher than usual. 

“I—they’re not usually like that. Everyone’s stressed, and drunk, and Katara and Toph sometimes get into it like that—”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s _not_ fucking fine, but you better believe I’m going to have some words with my sister.”

Zuko’s eyes snap downwards. “Don’t argue with her over me. Not worth it.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, that’s bullshit.” Sokka’s feeling brave, and a little fuzzy from the booze, so he steps forward into Zuko’s space. They’re nearly nose to nose. 

He thinks he hears Zuko’s breath catch, but it’s also pretty cold out now so he tries not to read into it too much. Then Zuko sighs, warm air and the scent of beer sliding over Sokka’s cheek. “What do you want, Sokka?”

“To make sure you’re okay. And to be friends,” Sokka says honestly. His newfound boldness wavers here, but he presses on, holding Zuko’s gaze. He hasn't forgotten about his earlier vow, he's just untethered enough to ignore it. “And, if—maybe, more than friends, if you were into that.”

His voice comes out weaker than he intends, but it’s there. He said it, and Zuko definitely heard it, his golden eyes blown wide. Sokka can feel him stop breathing. Hears him swallow. Wants to lean in to kiss his throat, but waits. 

It’s nearly a full minute later that Zuko speaks. “Oh,” is all he says.

Sokka laughs, despite himself. “Oh?”

“I ju—I didn’t expect this.”

Of course he didn’t. Zuko doesn’t expect nice things. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Zuko swallows again, hard, his next inhale a ragged heave of cool October air. “I don’t think so,” he says, so quietly that Sokka almost has to strain to hear it. Sokka nods, and immediately takes a step back. 

“I understand,” he says. He gets it, and he’ll be fine, but right now he is not fine. Not fine at all. His eyes burn, and he wants to leave, but he’s not going to be an asshole when Zuko’s vulnerable this way. 

“It’s not like that,” Zuko says.

“Zuko, I’m a big boy. You don’t need to make me feel better.”

“No, it’s not—ugh, no. I’m your TA, and you’re great, but I’m—”

“Not interested, I got that.”

“No! I’m so fucked up, you don’t deserve that. You deserve better than the absolute mess that makes up my life, and just—fuck, Sokka, you don’t want this. Really, you do not.”

Sokka’s heart hurts, and he’s confused all over again. So Zuko _would_ want him, if he could get out of his own damned head for a minute? “Why do you say that?” he asks. “You can’t know what I want.”

“No, no, nobody wants this,” Zuko babbles. He’s nearing hysterics, Sokka thinks. His hands are clenching and opening as if he can’t decide what to do with them, and his eyes are looking everywhere but at Sokka. “I’m _really_ fucked up. I don’t work in a tea shop to pay for school, I do school because otherwise I’d probably have jumped off a bridge by now, and it keeps me busy. I don’t even plan to use my PhD! It’s a fucking _literature_ degree, Sokka. I have no idea what I’m going to do, and I can’t even stand to live on my own even though I’m twenty five years old because I’m terrified my father will someday find me and burn off the other half of my face, or worse. My sister’s in an institution and I haven’t seen her in nearly a decade, but you know what? I might see her sooner than I think because I swear to god every day I am _losing it._ Maybe we’ll end up rooming together! Maybe we’ll finally get some sibling bonding time when we’re fucking locked up together!” 

Zuko’s shouting by the time he finishes, his hands fisted in his hair as he paces tight little circles on the sidewalk. It’s a _lot_. Sokka wishes he was sober. 

“Zuko,” he says, softly. There’s probably no point since half the neighbourhood must have just heard Zuko’s meltdown. He says it softly anyways. “Zuko. Take some deep breaths.”

Zuko levels a sneer at Sokka, but stops pacing. His chest heaves a few times, slow and even. “That’s good,” Sokka says, nodding and breathing along for a long minute. He doesn’t know who he is right now. He hopes it’s who Zuko needs. “How we doing?”

Zuko grunts.

“Yeah, figures.” Sokka runs a hand over his own hair. “Look, man. That was a lot of shit, okay? Like, a metric fuckton of it.” He steps toward Zuko again, hands held up. “I can’t say I get it, but I’d be willing to hear you out when we’re both a lot less sleep deprived and a lot more sober. I meant what I said. I want to be friends. I also like you, but I’m not going to just ghost you now that you’ve told me that’s not what you want right now, okay? I’m here.”

Zuko’s frozen now, looking at Sokka like he’s never seen him before. 

Sokka sighs. “I’d like to hug you. You can say no.”

“You can hug me,” Zuko whispers, and Sokka does. His arms go around Zuko’s shoulders, pulling him in. There’s a moment of stiffness before Zuko melts into it, his arms loosely draping over Sokka’s waist. He feels limp, like the fight’s gone out of him. Sokka brushes a hand over the back of his head. 

Zuko makes a strangled sort of noise from the back of his throat, and Sokka grips tighter, holding Zuko’s head to his shoulder. He feels trembling—Zuko’s crying, softly, discreetly. Sokka doesn’t mention it and holds on until Zuko pulls away.

He pretends not to see the quick dashing away of tears from Zuko’s cheeks. “Let me walk you home,” Sokka says. 

They make it back to the Jasmine Dragon in silence, and Zuko slips inside with only a mumbled thanks. Sokka doesn’t let it bother him. The guy was totally drained. 

He’s back at his place soon after. The cold air sobered him up a little, and now he has some time to process what the hell just happened. 

Sokka cannot remember the last time he was this angry. 

Not at Zuko. No, he really is a big boy, and even though it sucks—it sucks so bad—he can deal with just being friends with Zuko. Friendship is amazing and important, and Sokka knows it for the blessing it is. He wants Zuko to know that, too. 

It’s not even that he’s pissed at his sister, which he is. Katara will apologize later, probably after an enlightening talk with Aang. He checks his phone quickly and sees a slew of notifications, some from the group chat and some from Katara. He ignores them for now. If he responds when he’s this mad it won’t end well. 

Sokka’s furious that someone would hurt Zuko. That someone _did_ hurt him. 

_No. Not_ someone _. His father._

Sokka hopes fervently that hell is real and that there’s a special place in it for parents who hurt their own children. 

He opens his phone again and changes the contact info before sending a message to Zuko. 

**Sokka:** hey just making sure you got in okay

**Zuko:** Yes. Uncle made tea.

**Zuko:** I’m better now. Sorry you had to see that.

**Sokka:** glad to hear it but dont be sorry for having feelings, man

**Sokka:** say hi to your uncle for me

**Zuko:** He says hello.

**Sokka:** :) goodnight Zuko. get some sleep

Sokka’s showered and in bed when the next text arrives. He blearily rolls over to check it. 

**Zuko:** Sokka?

**Sokka:** yeah?

**Zuko:** I would really like to be friends, if you still want that. I understand if you don’t.

**Sokka:** dont be silly 

**Sokka:** you’re officially stuck with me now 

**Sokka:** no takesies backsies 

**Zuko:** You’re such a child. Goodnight, Sokka. Sleep well.

Sokka doesn’t sleep well, and he’s still angry in the morning. He pushes it aside to answer his friends’ concerned messages with variations on “it’s all good” and “no hard feelings” and “sorry for being a downer” and other platitudes that he doesn’t mean. 

Katara shows up around two on Sunday. 

Sokka glares at her for a solid ten seconds, just to make his point, before letting her in. 

“What do you want?” he asks. 

“Well obviously I came to apologize,” Katara says, wringing her hands. 

“It’s not me that you need to apologize to,” Sokka says. 

“No, I do. I’ll apologize to Zuko too, if I ever see him again. But you’re my brother and I hurt you. I’m sorry, Sokka.”

Sokka waits. He loves his sister more than anything and he’s never one to hold onto any of the dumb, hurtful shit she says when she’s mad, but he needs more from her this time. She seems to sense this, and explains further. 

“I saw the way you look at him,” she says. “And I think I’m a little jealous.”

Sokka blinks. “Jealous?”

“That he has so much of your attention. I mean, we just don’t see each other nearly as much anymore. Not since you moved out of the apartment. I guess I miss you.”

“I moved out when Aang moved in,” Sokka points out. “I wanted my own space and you needed yours.”

“I know that,” Katara says quickly. “It’s just strange, not having you around. You not...needing me.”

Sokka softens at that. “Katara, I’ll always need you. Just not in the same way, anymore. After mom...you took on a lot, because dad and I both needed that. You were so strong, and you took care of us when mom wasn’t around to do it.” She’s crying now, and Sokka wraps an arm around her shoulders. “I want you to trust me. I can take care of myself now, but I still need my sister,” he says. 

Katara sobs and flings her arms around Sokka. He hugs her back and presses a kiss to her hair. 

“Love you,” she murmurs. 

“Love you, too.”

They part after a moment and Katara gives him a watery smile. “So, it’s the real thing with this guy, huh?”

Sokka shakes his head. “Nah. He just wants to be friends. But it’s cool,” he says, trying for a casualness he doesn’t feel. 

Katara smiles again. “I doubt that. I saw the way he looked at you, too. We all did.”

Sokka’s chest flutters with hope, but he stamps it down. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to happen.”

“If you say so. But just so you know, Toph’s started a betting pool.”

“What?!” Sokka shrieks, a little dramatically, just for his sister’s benefit. Katara tips her head back and laughs. 

Sokka joins her. They’re okay. He’ll be okay. 

———

Sokka _is_ okay, for the most part. He meets up with Zuko as usual, often at the library but occasionally at the Jasmine Dragon when he’s not working or when he finishes a shift. Iroh insists on bringing them tea and cookies, and Sokka starts to suggest the tea shop more often.

They don’t talk about the night at Toph’s other than for Sokka to brush off Zuko’s attempted apologies. Sokka still has about a hundred questions. He asks none of them. A wall has crumbled between them, though, and Zuko’s quicker to speak about himself and slower to snap. His half-smiles come a bit easier and he rolls his eyes affectionately at Sokka’s bad jokes. Sokka is just happy Zuko is happy—or at least less miserable—so he can deal with his own heart aching every time Zuko’s near and too far away.

Midterm season passes uneventfully, and there’s increasingly less need for Zuko to tutor Sokka in theatre studies. He does anyway. Sokka suspects that they both see it for the excuse it is. Zuko’s come a long way since they met just weeks ago, but Sokka knows he’d rather do just about anything else than admit he wants or needs someone in his life. 

Sokka’s leaning on the wall at the tea shop, watching Zuko brew some kind of fruity tea. He’s been here for a few minutes, and Zuko’s clearly seen him, but has yet to acknowledge him. Sokka knows by now not to be offended—Zuko gets focused, and he’ll speak to Sokka when he’s ready to give him his time. It’s the closest Zuko comes to an outright declaration of sentiment, that dedication to making sure whoever he’s with has his undivided consideration. Sokka waits until the mug is delivered to an older gentleman near the window and Zuko’s leaning at his side before starting their conversation. 

“How’s work going?”

Zuko raises his brow and looks pointedly at the nearly empty shop. “Fine,” he says. 

“Excuse me for asking,” Sokka teases. “So I was thinking.”

“Uh oh.”

“Fuck off,” Sokka says, with absolutely no heat. “We’re doing this next analysis paper on a production of our choice, right? I figured I could give _Romeo and Juliet_ another go. It didn’t really get a fair shot the first time.” Zuko’s cheeks turn a satisfying pink colour, and Sokka suppresses a smirk. “Want to watch it again? I might need a translator.”

“I doubt that.”

“Sue me for wanting to spend time with you, then, asshole. You in or no?”

“In. When?”

“Sunday?”

“Sure. Come over here after closing.”

“Great,” Sokka says. He checks his phone for the time. “I’ve got ten minutes before my class. Can I get a jasmine to go?”

Zuko nods and gets to work brewing the tea. He pulls a disposable cup off the stack and Sokka says, “No, wait.” He reaches into his bag to grab his travel mug and thrust it toward Zuko. “No sense in wasting a cup.”

Zuko pours his tea. “I didn’t expect you to be a tree hugger.”

“Dude, those things are so bad for the environment. They’re lined with plastic so you can’t even recycle them. I know it doesn’t make a huge difference, but I’d rather not be a part of that when I have the choice.”

“Noted.”

Sokka’s on a roll, now. “You guys should look into compostable cups. They might be a little more expensive, but you can put a small surcharge on them to encourage people to bring their own reusable mugs. There’s so many students that come here you could even have a reusable rewards program or something. A free tea for every ten reusable purchases, maybe. I don’t know.”

Zuko’s listening intently with his eyes trained on Sokka’s face. Sokka isn’t sure he’ll ever be used to how it feels, that sense of having Zuko’s entire attention focused on him—it’s intoxicating. “You’ve given this a lot of thought,” Zuko says. 

Sokka shrugs. “Just an idea.”

“It’s smart. I’ll mention it to Uncle. He’d probably go for it.”

And there it is, the funny little thrill that goes through Sokka’s gut whenever Zuko compliments him. He shrugs again with a smile. “Cool, let me know what he says. And thanks for the tea, I’ll see you Sunday.”

“See you.”

Sokka leaves without paying. Zuko never lets him anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No disrespect intended to those pursuing literary studies!


	5. In which Sokka plays water polo

Sokka checks his phone. It’s Sunday, and the Jasmine Dragon just closed. He texted Zuko when he was on his way, but there’s no response yet.

It snowed this morning, though it hadn’t stuck. Bitter cold still hangs in the air and Sokka pulls his fur-lined jacket up around his neck as he walks to the back of the shop. There’s a light on, so he bangs on the door. 

Jin’s face appears a moment later. Immediately the bolt clicks open and Sokka is ushered inside. 

“Thanks, Jin. Sorry to barge in on you.”

“No problem, it’s freezing out there. Want me to make you a tea?” she smiles. It’s an infectious grin. Sokka doesn’t know her well since he usually comes to the shop when Zuko’s working, but they’ve gotten friendly through passing conversation. 

“That’s okay, thanks though. Zuko around? I’m supposed to meet him tonight.”

“He’s upstairs with Iroh. But Sokka, there’s—”

Sokka is already bounding up the stairs to the apartment with a shouted thanks. He knocks on the door loudly, a little carried away with his excitement. It’s been two days since he spoke to Zuko, and it feels like an eternity. He wants to be in his room watching a movie and listening to the soft sounds of him breathing. He wants to be close, even if they don’t touch. 

Iroh opens the door. Sokka opens his mouth to greet him when his eyes land on Zuko. He’s sitting at the dining table, but not alone. The black-haired girl from his office is sitting beside him, her chair entirely too close and her hand on his shoulder. They’re leaning toward each other, their faces near as if they’re having an intimate conversation—at least they were, before Iroh opened the door to show Sokka, staring mutely. Zuko’s eyes snap to his. 

“Uh, hey,” Sokka says. Iroh’s standing to the side to let him in, but he doesn’t cross the threshold. “I guess we’re not on for tonight.”

Zuko stands quickly. “No, no. Mai just stopped by for a visit.”

“Of course, yeah, no problem. Don’t let me interrupt.”

“We were just finishing up,” Zuko says. 

Sokka holds up his hand. “It’s totally cool, dude. I’ll catch up with you later. Mai, Iroh, have a good night.”

He hears Zuko call his name as he goes down the stairs, and he picks his speed up a little, trying to outpace the footsteps that he hears following. Zuko clasps his shoulder and drags him back a little just before he reaches the back door of the tea shop. It’s dark, and the light from the street is lighting up Zuko’s eyes in a strange way. He looks agitated.

“What’s wrong?” he demands. He still hasn’t let go of Sokka’s shoulder.

“Nothing at all.”

“You’re upset.”

Sokka tries for a casual laugh, but it rings hollow. “Zuko, I’m good. We’ll reschedule. Go hang with your lady friend.”

“ _What_?”

“Mai?” Sokka frowns. “You two looked really close. I didn’t realize it was like that between you, and it’s totally not any of my business, but yeah. Makes sense.” He shrugs, hoping Zuko will take the hint and let go of him. His hand feels like a brand on Sokka’s shoulder. 

Zuko grips harder. “You think I’m with Mai,” he says, his voice gone flat. 

“Well, that’s what it looked like, so I mean. Yeah. Makes total sense that you’d want to share an office with her and that you didn’t—it just makes a lot of sense. I’m happy for you, she seems cool.”

Sokka’s seen Mai for all of thirty seconds in his entire damn life, and he doesn’t think she’s cool, but he’s trying to be cool so he says it. 

“I told you, we’re old friends.”

“Exactly. My sister and her boyfriend—my best friend, incidentally—were old friends before they got together and they both swear that’s what makes them such a good couple. They’re actually pretty gross, gives me total oogies to be around them. Well, you saw. They’re disgusting. But like, it also seems nice? So maybe being friends first is the way to go. So. Good job. To you, that is. For being friends first.”

Sokka rambles, Zuko stares. Does that sum up their relationship? Sokka feels like that kind of sums up their relationship so far. 

Zuko opens his mouth but Sokka cuts him off with a hurried, “So let’s do the movie another time, yeah? Okay, see you later, buddy. Havefuntonightbye,” and practically sprints out the door. 

Zuko doesn’t follow him, and Sokka can’t decide whether to be relieved or upset about that. 

Sokka’s almost disappointed that Jin’s already gone. She’s cute, and nice, and they could have a good time together. God knows it’s been long enough, and Sokka could use a night to get his stupid, unattainable crush out of his system. 

He wouldn’t, though. He won’t. He’d only hate himself after, and even though he and Zuko are _not together, probably will never be together_ , he’d feel like he was betraying him.

Because it’s not just a crush. Sokka doesn’t know when Zuko took his heart and squandered it away—maybe it was the first time Sokka heard his voice, maybe it was the first laugh, maybe it was when he cried into his shoulder on the sidewalk—but he did. It’s done, and Sokka can’t regret it, for all the agony it’s currently causing him. 

**Sokka:** wanna come over and get drunk 

**Aang:** should I be worried?

**Aang:** Katara says she’s worried 

**Sokka:** ugh i knew i should have asked Toph 

**Aang:** we’re on our way!!!!

Sokka scrubs a hand over his face. He knows better than this. This impulsiveness is what got him into trouble years ago, and he’s learned. He’s grown, and he needs to deal with his crap in a healthier way. 

**Sokka:** no Aang nevermind its cool

**Sokka:** im being dumb and i think i actually need to be alone for a little while 

**Aang:** :((( are you sure?

**Sokka:** yeah

**Sokka:** thanks bud. Love ya

**Aang:** <3

Sokka throws himself into bed with a groan. He’s being an idiot. He knows it, Zuko knows it, Iroh and Aang probably know it. He saw one mildly incriminating scene, and didn’t even let Zuko _speak_. He just made assumptions and ran with them. 

He has no right to be jealous, and he has no right to be an utter asshole about it. 

But he was, and _shit_. Sokka’s family is racking up a real tally of apologies owed to Zuko. 

———

Sokka sends a text in the morning. It’s a request to meet up, where Sokka plans to apologize. Profusely. It goes unanswered, and he sends a follow up after his afternoon classes apologizing outright and asking again about a meet up. 

By ten that night, Sokka caves and actually phones the guy, which should be very telling about how much he likes Zuko and needs them to be okay. Needs them to be friends again. There’s no answer. 

The pattern repeats for a week. On Wednesday afternoon Sokka finally goes to the Jasmine Dragon, but Zuko’s not working. He does the same on Thursday and again on Friday, when Iroh sighs and pulls him to the side and says, very gently, that perhaps Zuko just wants some space right now and that he will eventually come around.

“My nephew is a stubborn boy, Sokka.”

“No shit, Iroh,” Sokka grumbles, then looks horrified. Iroh just chuckles and gets him a tea. 

The gang is over at Sokka’s place again on Saturday night. It’s a far more subdued hangout than usual, and Sokka knows it’s because his mood is crap and he’s bringing everyone down. He can’t be bothered to feel guilty. He keeps to himself and nurses a beer from the couch, with his feet slung over Suki’s lap as the group chats around him. Exams are coming quickly, and they should be studying, but nobody is interested in doing so. Least of all Sokka. 

He doesn’t notice when Aang skips to the front door.

He _does_ notice when Aang comes back into the living room alongside Zuko, who is flushed and has hair blown around his face like he’s been running. 

“Zuko?” he says, dumbly. The others have gone silent around him, but there’s secret smiles tugging at a few lips. “What are you doing here?”

Zuko looks confused now. “You texted me and said there was an emergency,” he says. 

“I never texted you.”

“Oh, I did!” Suki says, waving Sokka’s phone under his nose. 

Sokka glares at her and grabs it, then turns back to Zuko. “No emergency. Just annoying friends. You can go, no need to trouble yourself with me.”

“Sokka, stop being a dick,” Toph says.

“He’s the one who ignored me all week,” Sokka mutters. 

“ _Are you fucking kidding me_?” Zuko says. His voice is like Sokka’s never heard it—dark and cold and dangerous. Aang inches away from his side. 

“It’s true,” Sokka says, not breaking eye contact. He has no leg to stand on and he knows it, but Sokka’s pissed and hurt and this is a fight he can sink his teeth into.

“You _asshole_!” Zuko snarls. Suki flinches under Sokka’s legs. “You were the one who barged in, made some ridiculous assumption, based on— _what_? That I was _sitting_ with someone? You’re a complete idiot. I’m not with Mai. I used to be, then I realized she didn’t have the right equipment, and now we’re friends, just like I told you, you _absurd moron_.” Everyone’s looking everywhere but at Zuko or Sokka. Zuko keeps going. “And even so, what gives you the right to be pissy? I have to watch you and your former fuck buddy—” Toph lets out a little giggle at that, “—get snuggly and gross. I don’t like it but I’m not going to be a turd about it!”

Aang cuts in when Zuko takes a shuddering breath. “Um, we should go. We’ll give you two some space.”

“What? No! I want to hear the rest of the show,” Toph whines. Suki throws Sokka off of her and drags Toph up by the arm, Aang and Katara following on their heels as they make for the door. 

Sokka waits to speak until the door slams. “Do you want something to drink?” he says, conversationally. 

Zuko blinks. “Uh, no.”

Sokka shrugs and grabs another can from his fridge. He sits back down and takes a long drink before looking at Zuko again.

A moment ago he was up for a fight, but it won’t accomplish anything. And he’s more than a little charmed by the fact that even though Zuko was rightfully upset and ignoring him, one fake emergency text brought him running to Sokka’s door. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I was being a complete asshole, and a moron, and an idiot, and—and did you really call me a _turd_?”

Zuko sputters, and Sokka can’t keep the smile off his face. “That’s not the point here—”

“No, the point is that you are absolutely right, and I was being a jerk. I don’t have any excuses for myself, but I want to talk to you, if that’s what you want.”

Zuko lowers himself slowly onto the edge of the couch cushion. He nods. 

Sokka sighs. “I got jealous,” he says. “That’s embarrassing to admit, but it’s the truth. And you deserve the truth. I got jealous, and I didn't listen to you, and that's not okay. I really like you, Zuko. Our friendship is important to me. You are important to me, and I’ve already probably ruined any chance that you’d want to keep hanging out after this but...I want to know you, as much as you’ll let me.”

“Sokka…” Zuko starts. Sokka raises a hand. 

“Let me finish, okay?” he says gently. “I’m not good at relationships. I just don’t do them.” Sokka takes a deep breath. “There was this girl, just after high school. I was useless, not doing anything decent with my time, but she was amazing and so _good_ . Her name was Yue, and I fell hard. But she was sick. She’d been sick since she was little, and I only got to know her for a few months before she passed away. I went off the rails after that, doing more and more stupid shit with anyone stupid enough to suggest it. I didn’t care anymore, about anything, really. Once I calmed down and decided I wasn’t going to love anyone else, I went the other direction, hooking up with as many girls as possible. That was a nice distraction for a little while, but it didn’t always feel that great later. Then I met you, and god, Zuko. You’re incredible. But I never want to hurt you, and I worry I would end up doing that, eventually. And it doesn’t matter, because you told me you weren’t interested and I need to respect that.” Sokka swallows hard, unable to meet Zuko’s eyes. “So I’m _so sorry_ that I’ve been such a shitty friend. I’m going to do better, if you let me try and make it up to you.”

There’s a long pause, long enough that Sokka has to peek at Zuko to make sure he’s okay. The second he meets the golden eyes boring into his, Zuko launches himself over the couch. He flings his arms around Sokka’s neck and squeezes, pushing them both into the arm of the couch with Zuko half on top of Sokka at an awkward angle. 

Zuko mumbles something into Sokka’s shoulder that he doesn’t catch. “What was that?” he asks. 

Zuko pulls back to look at Sokka in the face. “I said, you should be acing theatre studies, because that was _spectacularly_ dramatic.”

Sokka laughs, the burn in his throat letting up a little. Zuko smiles back, a full, bright smile that twists Sokka’s insides painfully even as relief washes over him. 

Zuko sits up, releasing Sokka. His cheeks are predictably pink. “I like you, too,” Zuko says. “But I meant what I said when I told you that it’s best to be friends for now.”

_For now_. Sokka’s heart trips on those two words, and he tells himself to _get a fucking grip_ because they just sorted things out. 

Zuko adds, “And I, um. I guess I wasn’t the greatest friend recently either, giving you the cold shoulder like that. And also yelling at you, just now. So I’ll work harder, too.” 

Sokka grins, a little loopy and dazed because really, he’s far luckier than he has any right to be that Zuko is still on his couch. “Deal. Wanna watch that movie now?”

“I don’t just carry it with me, you know,” Zuko says. It’s not a no. 

“I think there’s a version on Netflix, let me check.”

“Oh god. _No_ ,” Zuko groans. “Not that version. It’s horrible.”

“Isn’t analysing _bad_ performances part of performance analysis?”

“They completely ruined my favourite play!”

There’s a beat. “Wait.”

“Uh, I m-“ 

“ _Romeo and Juliet_ is your _favourite_ play?”

“Ugh, leave me alone.”

Sokka laughs, a real whoop of amusement. “You’re hilarious! A literature PhD student who loves _Romeo and Juliet_ unironically. That’s _hilarious_.”

Zuko scowls, but the corners of his lips twitch. “You suck.”

“You love it. Want to watch something else, then? You can always crash here, if you want.”

“Something short. I have to open the shop tomorrow.”

“You got it, friend.”

They end up bickering over which show to watch. Sokka eventually caves and lets Zuko pick (he was always going to let Zuko pick) a wildlife documentary about birds of paradise. It’s not really to Sokka’s taste, but he learns a lot and Zuko _loves_ it, so it’s a winner. 

It’s really nice. Sokka feels an emptiness that had been gnawing at him all week slowly start to fill up again.

The show ends and Sokka flicks off the television. Zuko lolls his head over to the side to flash a sleepy smile at Sokka. 

“Sure you don’t want to say?” Sokka asks, quiet and hopeful. 

“It’s okay. It’s a short walk home.”

Sokka relents, because it’s probably not just a friendly thing to have Zuko stay over when neither of them are drunk and he lives three blocks away. “Text me when you get home.”

Zuko scrunches his forehead. “I’m not gonna get mugged or anything.”

“I know that. We just have this thing in our group. It started when Katara and I were younger, after my mom died. We’d always text each other and my dad when we got where we were supposed to be, and I guess we just kind of forced it onto our friends here.” He chuckles. “It’s just a way of making sure everyone’s safe. So, text me when you get home.”

Zuko nods, still tense looking. He takes a breath, and Sokka waits for the inevitable “I’m so sorry about your mom” comment.

It doesn’t come. “Your family sounds nice,” Zuko says. “My mom left when we were young. When she did...well, you know. We definitely don’t have a group chat.” 

“Your family sounds fucking insane,” Sokka says. 

Zukos’s eyes go wide for an instant. Then he huffs a laugh, and another, and then he’s bent over laughing so hard Sokka thinks he’s broken him. Zuko straightens a moment later, still smiling. It’s a little pained and sharp, but Sokka takes it. Zuko reaches over to squeeze Sokka’s wrist once, fleeting, before standing. “I’ll text you when I get home,” he says. 

**Zuko:** I got home. There was a shady looking racoon on the corner—he looked ready to take my purse, but I think I scared him off. 

**Sokka:** you’re so brave 

**Sokka:** for making a joke that bad

**Zuko:** I’m rolling my eyes at you.

**Sokka:** there are emojis for that 

**Sokka:** a whole keyboard of them 

**Zuko:** Goodnight.

**Sokka:** sleep tight :)

——— 

The scent of chlorine nearly knocks Sokka over when he steps onto the deck.

He thinks about that for a second. Pools are gross places—he remembers reading somewhere that they aren’t supposed to smell at all when they’re clean, they way they would be if everyone showered beforehand and didn’t pee. 

He tries to stop thinking about that.

He spots Katara, stretching near the deep end, looking far too serious for what is a practice game of water polo. A few of the others are also getting ready. Suki’s laughing at something Haru said, and Aang’s talking to Toph, who looks unimpressed. She’d only learned to swim over the past summer, during a visit to Sokka and Katara’s cabin up north where Aang had bullied her—lovingly— into getting into the lake for a few lessons. 

Sokka wonders how the hell he let Aang talk him into this. 

He voices that thought as he approaches Aang and Toph.

“You and me both,” Toph mutters.

“Come on guys, it’ll be fun!”

“I still only count six of us,” Sokka points out. “You told me we finally had a team.”

Aang’s face lights up as he spies something over Sokka’s shoulder.

“Zuko! You made it,” he says. 

Sokka turns to meet a nervous-looking Zuko, standing on the deck with red trunks and a grey t-shirt. He looks distinctly out of place near the water. 

Aang’s already chattering at him, and Sokka raises a shoulder in a shrug. Katara approaches and offers a smile that Zuko returns with a little wave. The rest of the gang slowly migrates over as well, until they’re in a loose huddle. 

“Looks like we have everyone,” Suki says. 

“So, are there like, positions we need to know?” Haru asks. 

“Not for now,” Katara says, at the same time Toph says, “I call goalie!”

The rest of them are used to Toph’s twisted humour and only roll their eyes, but Zuko laughs his huffy chuckle. Toph smiles and punches him in the arm. He grimaces. 

“I knew you’d be a good addition,” Toph says.

“Oh, uh. Thanks.”

“Why _is_ Zuko here?” Sokka asks. Not that he’s not pleased, but he is confused. 

“Zuko and Katara and I had lunch together the other day! It was super fun. He agreed to give the team a try,” Aang says.

“It’s so exciting that we finally have enough players,” Katara says, with another smile at Zuko. 

Huh. They must have made up over this lunch. Sokka’s not surprised that Zuko didn’t mention it, but he’s surprised Katara hadn’t given him a heads up. He has so many questions for later. About important stuff, like clues to Zuko’s favourite food. 

“We’re going to crush those dunderheads,” Toph says. 

“It’s a friendly practice game,” Aang says. “The league is nearing finals and it was way too late to join, but this team agreed to play a game to let us get our bearings. Let’s all just do our best and have fun!”

“Nah, I’m with Toph. Let’s crush them,” Suki says. 

Sokka takes a glance at the other side of the pool deck where the other team is huddled. They look friendly and relaxed. A blonde girl catches his eye and waves with a smile. Sokka does the same and turns back to his team. 

“Okay, everyone grab a cap and let’s go,” Katara says. 

“No team cheer?” Aang asks. 

Katara considers. “Does anyone know one?” 

There’s a pause. Sokka knows some from hockey, but he thinks they’re a little too vulgar for this venue. 

“Uh, I know a couple,” Zuko says softly. His face nearly matches his shorts as all eyes turn to him, curious. “But it’s better if we have a team name,” he says.

“Melon Lords,” Toph says.

“Aang Gang,” Haru puts in. 

“Boomerang squad?” Sokka adds. 

“Sokka, that doesn’t even make sense,” Katara says.

“It felt right,” Sokka shrugs.

“We can decide later,” Aang suggests. “Zuko, care to lead us through it?”

“Sure. So it goes…”

They do the cheer. It’s mostly Toph screaming at the top of her tiny lungs, but Aang really gets in there, too. Sokka adds a few loud whoops at the end for emphasis, and Zuko rolls his eyes at him. 

Sokka feels bad for the other team. 

Despite Toph’s insistence that she would kick ass as the goalkeeper, Haru ends up in that position. The rest of them fan out and do their best, trying to listen to Katara’s shouted instructions as well as the comments from the lifeguard who’s refereeing the game. 

The first few minutes of Zuko shirtless are a blur for Sokka, but then he gets pretty into it. They’re all having fun, and Toph only nearly drowns once. Sokka and Suki take turns staying close to her after that, giving her light tosses of the ball that she then sends flying in random directions.

They end up losing the game by a lot, but even Katara comes out of the pool looking flushed and happy. Aang waves them in for a group hug. Zuko seems hesitant, but Katara tells him he’s now obligated to join. Sokka doesn’t miss the tiny smile when he does. 

They shake hands with the other team and towel off on deck. 

“Anybody down for drinks?” Suki asks. 

“I’m in. A buddy of mine is playing with his band downtown at Electric Monarch, if you wanna head there,” Haru suggests. 

The others agree readily. Sokka leans in to Zuko, standing at his shoulder. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he murmurs. “We can do something else.”

Zuko smiles broadly. “I’m in.”

“We can take my van,” Aang says. 

“Dibs out of DDing!” Suki shouts, and touches her nose. 

Sokka’s the last to catch on because he’s still reeling from that smile. “Fine,” he sighs. “Very mature, guys.”

———

Electric Monarch is nicer than Sokka remembers it. The dancefloor has been expanded, and there’s more food on the menu, with even some vegetarian options for Aang. Sokka orders plenty from the kitchen, because naturally he’s starving.

It’s not long before they’ve all had a drink or two, besides Sokka, and Aang and Katara head out to the floor to dance. Haru’s friends have a decent band, and there’s a small crowd enjoying themselves in front of the raised platform that qualifies as a stage. 

Sokka finishes his wings off and watches the others drift off to join the dancing. Suki has Haru entirely flustered with her moves, and Toph’s thrashing wildly to clear herself a space on the floor. 

“They’re really fun,” Zuko says, leaning close to Sokka. He shudders a little at the warm breath on the shell of his ear. “Thanks for introducing me to everyone. I’m surprised that they don’t hate me after I yelled at you, but I’m grateful. Even Katara only threatened to kill me once at lunch.”

“Yeah, they’re the best,” Sokka says fondly. “Thanks for coming out to play water polo. You looked pretty good out there.”

Zuko snorts. “I think I did a lot of flailing.”

“Maybe I like flailing,” Sokka teases. Is he flirting right now? _Bad, Sokka, bad._

Zuko raises his brow at him and goes back to people watching. When he finishes his drink, Sokka grabs Zuko’s arm to pull him away from their booth. 

“Dance with me,” he says. 

Zuko digs his heels in. “No way. I don’t dance.”

“Come on,” Sokka whines. “Please?” He knows it’s reckless, but he wants to see Zuko move. 

He tugs again and Zuko follows—and wow, he really does not dance. Sokka palms his own forehead and tries to get him to loosen up. _Chill_ is not in Zuko’s vocabulary, however, and even with a drink in his system the result is a stiff imitation of the moves Sokka’s doing. It’s adorably awkward and endearing, and Zuko’s eyes flash with a little indignation that gives way to affection as Sokka laughs, and Sokka wants—

He cuts his thoughts off and steers Zuko over to the others, who have formed a tight circle as they dance. He motions that he’s going to run to the washroom. He does, splashing some cold water on his face, and then returns to their booth. 

Sokka’s mood just dropped five points. He watches his friends with a strange mix of fondness and misery. He’s frustrated with himself, because no matter what he tells himself, it doesn’t stop the _wanting_ . Sokka looks at Zuko and he _wants_ , and he can’t imagine it not being that way. 

Eventually Suki flings herself into the booth beside him, sweat plastering a few strands of bangs to her forehead. She looks lively and happy and beautiful, and Sokka flashes her a smile. 

“Toph is an animal,” she says, looking at the empty glasses for something to drink. Sokka pushes her his soda. 

“Well, we all knew that already,” he says as she drinks. 

“Fair enough. Why aren’t you out there?” 

“Ah, just tired, I guess.”

“Yeah? You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

“It’s been true a lot lately.”

“Sokka.”

“Suki.”

“What’s really your problem?”

Sokka glances at her. She’s looking at him—really looking at him, the way sometimes only Suki is able to. He loves that about her, about their friendship. “Why didn’t we work out?” he asks in place of an answer. 

She looks a little taken aback but answers easily. “We were great together in some ways. We’re obviously amazing friends, and the other stuff—well, you were there for that. Also pretty amazing,” she grins and knocks his arm with her elbow. “I love you, Sokka. I could have fallen in love with you. I think I started to, a little bit,” she says. Sokka turns to face her fully, and he’s sure that surprise is written on his face. 

“You never told me that,” he says. 

Suki shrugs. “It was clear it wasn’t going that way for you.”

“It could have,” Sokka insists. “I love you, too.”

“I know you do, but it’s not different from the way you love Aang or Toph. It’s friendship, and even if we were attracted to each other, that doesn’t always equal romance. You weren’t looking for more, or you didn’t feel more, and I had to end it before I got myself hurt.”

“It didn’t bother you that we were just friends after that?”

“Not after a little bit of time. I think we wouldn’t have ended up together anyways. It was easy to accept that and let the other feelings fade, because I was happy with what we had.”

“I guess—what if some feelings never go away?”

Suki considers. “You can’t force them to. When my feelings for you disappeared it was a sign for me that we were only supposed to be friends. If I find the person I want more with, I wouldn’t want those feelings to go away if I could help it.”

“I don’t know what _more_ is supposed to feel like,” Sokka says. “I thought maybe that’s what I had once, but I don’t know anymore.”

“You may have,” Suki says gently. She doesn’t know much about Yue, but she’s so sweet that Sokka’s heart might break. “You can love more than one person, and finding a new love doesn’t diminish the truth of the first love.”

Sokka’s eyes are burning. “You’ve been spending too much time around Aang,” he mumbles. 

Suki turns her gaze to the dancefloor for a minute. After a while she says, without looking at Sokka, “I think that the person who manages to hold your heart should count themselves extremely lucky. I also think that this person already knows how lucky they are, even if they’re a little bit scared, just like you.”

Sokka puts an arm around Suki’s shoulders and pulls her in for a hug. “Thanks, Suki,” he mutters. Sokka doesn’t know what he did to deserve his friends, his family, but he will never stop being thankful for them. 

She slips back to the dancefloor. Sokka joins the group again, once his chest has stopped aching, and they laugh away the rest of the night. 


	6. In which Sokka buys flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get moderately heated here. Hopefully it comes as a surprise to nobody :)

Exam season crashes down on the school like a tidal wave. It’s near impossible to find a seat in the library, and the lineups at every coffee cart and Starbucks on campus triple in size. 

“It’s so not fair that this doesn’t affect you,” Sokka complains to Zuko as they study at his apartment’s dining table. 

“Hey, I put in my years of grinding through exams,” Zuko says. He doesn’t look up from his book. 

“You were probably one of those whiz kids who barely had to study for a ninety,” Sokka says. He’s trying to decipher some practice sets for his water quality course, but Professor Hama’s notes are near incomprehensible at the best of times, let alone when he’s been fueled by a nightly four hours of sleep and just as many coffees during the day. He closes his binder and tips his head back.

Zuko’s eyes slide over to catch Sokka’s, then back to his page. “I worked hard. Azula was the whiz kid. She hardly had to lift a finger. She oozed natural talent for anything she tried.”

“Azula?”

“My sister.”

“Oh.” Sokka doesn’t ask further, even though he’s dying to. Zuko sighs and closes his book.

“She’s in a specialized care facility in the city. She had a breakdown when she was fifteen.”

Sokka just looks at Zuko. He’s staring at the cover of his book. Tentatively, he reaches a hand over to rest on Zuko’s arm. 

“For a long time I thought that I should have been able to help her,” Zuko says. “But she had her own issues and I was too young and messed up for my own reasons at the time to really see what was happening. It took a few years of therapy to figure out that it wasn’t my fault. At least, that’s what they tell me.” Zuko chuckles darkly.

“She never came to live with you and your uncle?” Sokka asks. It seems like Iroh would be anyone’s ideal guardian. 

Zuko looks up and shakes his head. “She stayed with our father. Maybe if she hadn’t it would have been different, but she made her choice.”

There’s an air of finality to Zuko’s last statement that makes Sokka think he’s done talking. Which is just as well, because the reminder about Zuko’s father hasn’t done Sokka’s mood any favours, and he’d rather change the topic before either of them loses it again. He makes to pull his hand away to open his notes again, but Zuko clasps his fingers.

“Want to watch a movie?” he asks. “I’m not getting anywhere with this reading right now.”

“Heck yes,” Sokka agrees. 

There’s no television in the apartment, and they could just as easily set up a laptop on the coffee table and watch from the couch, but Zuko leads them to his room. They’re on the bed, once more immersed in _Romeo and Juliet._ Well, Zuko is immersed. Sokka read a summary of it online once he found out it was Zuko’s favourite because he knew the next time they did this he would be just as distracted.

It’s lying on the bed, watching Zuko mouth the lines from the corner of his eye when Sokka realizes that resistance is futile.

He’s only known Zuko for a little more than two months, and he doesn’t even know that much about him if he thinks about it. It doesn't matter. He knows that Zuko’s sweet, and kind, and pretends that he doesn’t need care from others when all he really wants is to be cared for. Zuko feels deeply, even if he refuses to let it show, and Sokka wants to reach into those feelings and take him apart so he can help put him back together again. 

Zuko shoots Sokka little glances every now and then, as if gauging his reaction to the movie as it unfolds. Sokka catches them all and gives a little smile, for reassurance, and just because he’s happy. They’re lying side by side, Zuko’s head braced on his bicep on the pillow. 

_Yeah_ , Sokka thinks. _This is stupid._ Their excuses are stupid and the four inches between them are stupid.

Sokka has a plan. 

——— 

Exams are a blur. Two weeks of hair pulling and praying and sleeplessness. Sokka drudges through them, and even his friends are stressed based on how little he hears from them. They like to have fun, but none of them are irresponsible enough to risk their grades when it matters. Sokka does hardly more than text Zuko, who he knows is covering more shifts at the tea shop to give the students with finals a break.

Theatre studies is his second exam, and he feels giddy when he gets Zuko’s good luck message that morning. He finishes the week with mechanical engineering, and sleeps on and off for thirteen hours after he writes the exam. 

Grades are due to the registrar on December fifteenth. He has never cared about nor known this information before in over three years of university, but he looks it up this semester because it’s important. He texts Zuko on the evening of the fourteenth.

**Sokka:** you all done grading? :)

**Zuko:** I’m not telling you your mark early. 

**Sokka:** you’re so mean

**Sokka:** so are you free right now?

**Zuko:** Technically, yes. Uncle is setting up a game of Pai Sho that I have no excuses to get out of. 

**Sokka:** im giving you an excuse 

**Sokka:** meet me in the tea shop in an hour 

He doesn’t check for Zuko’s response. He pulls on a clean pair of pants and a blue button down that brings out his eyes. He’d even had Katara over earlier with her iron. He insisted on doing the ironing himself though, so it looks...not great, but relatively unrumpled. 

There’s a quick stop at the grocery store—because Sokka’s plan didn’t take into account the fact that floral shops close before nine on a Saturday night—and then he’s waiting outside the tea shop trying not to freeze his ass off. The wildflower bouquet is looking a tad wilty. Sokka tries not to be bothered. It’s the gesture that counts. 

Sokka sees Zuko’s silhouette enter the tea room. He unlocks the door and lets Sokka in without turning the lights on.

Sokka’s heart is pounding wildly. He wills himself to stay calm. 

“What’s going on?” Zuko asks. His brow is furrowed and he’s wearing a big red knit sweater and _god_ , he looks so soft. 

Sokka thrusts the flowers into his hands. “For you,” he breathes. 

Zuko takes them slowly, looking confused. “You brought me flowers,” he says. 

Sokka nods. “Yup.”

“Why?”

“I have some things to say to you.”

“Okay,” Zuko says. “Let’s put these in some water in the back.” He takes a longer look at the flowers and smiles. 

Sokka follows and lets Zuko water the flowers, shrugging his jacket off. He’s impatient, and Zuko’s moving so slowly, but he stays quiet. This interlude of searching for a jar and unwrapping the bouquet is just as much for Zuko to gather himself as it is for the plants. 

Finally, Zuko turns and meets Sokka’s gaze. “What do you want to talk about?”

Sokka takes a breath. “First, thanks for the tutoring. I’m pretty sure you’re the only reason I’m going to pass the course. I think I even know something about theatre now? Second, I like you.”

Zuko glances away. “I think we’ve had this conversation,” he murmurs. 

“We have. But hear me out. I like you, so goddamned much, and I know you like me, too. Correct me if I’m wrong.” Zuko says nothing, so Sokka carries on even as his head is screaming _yes yes yes._ “We’re being idiots. I don’t care how fucked up you think you are, because we’re all fucked up and also, you’re _wrong_. I care about you. But I can’t be friends with you,” he says. 

Zuko’s head snaps up with a pained expression. “You don’t want to be friends anymore?”

“No, no, I said I _can’t_. I can’t be just your friend. It’s impossible. I’ve been trying so hard, but most of the time when you’re around it’s a strain to keep from touching you and being as close as possible to you. I wanted to get to know you from the moment we met, and I still want to know everything about you, if you’ll let me. You’re amazing,” Sokka heaves a breath. “I could fall in love with you,” he finishes, softer. “If I haven’t already.”

Zuko, predictably, stares. Sokka knows better than to take his silence at face value and instead looks to his eyes, which are flickering with a flurry of emotion. 

Sokka steps forward, just inside of Zuko’s personal space, but not close enough to stress him out. “I want to kiss you,” he whispers. Zuko opens his mouth, but Sokka raises a hand and smiles. “And I checked the university regulations. You’re not my TA anymore. Now that grades are submitted, there’s no rule that says I can’t.” Sokka doesn’t give a shit about the rules, but Zuko does. “Can I?”

Zuko’s lips part. Sokka’s leaning, slowly, nearly vibrating with tension. 

Zuko snaps first. He hauls Sokka in with a hand on each shoulder. He hesitates for a second, his sweet breath mingling with Sokka’s, then he crushes their lips together. 

Zuko’s mouth tastes better than anything Sokka might have imagined. Zuko’s answering the question about whether it’s possible to get drunk off another person—it is, and Sokka _is_. He kisses Zuko back like he’s the first drink he’s had in a week, circling his hands around to tangle in the dark hair. It’s silky and soft like he expected, and Sokka locks his hands into it. 

Zuko’s hands are everywhere, burning wherever they touch. He’s so shy and awkward most of the time, and Sokka’s surprised at the confidence with which he runs his hands under Sokka’s shirt to trace his bare sides and tug his hips closer. 

Their bodies are flush, and there’s no way that Zuko can’t feel the hardness already growing in Sokka’s pants. Zuko gasps a little, and pulls his face away to plant messy, open mouthed kisses to Sokka’s jaw and neck. He grazes his teeth over the soft place at the bottom of his throat, and Sokka lets out a ragged exhale. 

He pulls Zuko’s head back up for another deep kiss, licking along the seam of his lips until Zuko opens them enough for Sokka to tug his bottom lip into his mouth and suck. The little whimper from Zuko that he swallows is addictive. 

Sokka can’t wait to hear every sound he can possibly pull from this man. 

He releases Zuko’s hair and slides his hands down his body, feeling the planes of muscle under the thick sweater. He pauses just long enough to quickly squeeze his ass, then slips his hands under his thighs and hitches up. Sokka lifts Zuko onto the counter behind them. He has to tilt his head up now to keep their mouths locked, and Zuko’s hands are tugging his hair tie free. Sokka hums as fingers tease through his loose hair. 

“So hot,” Zuko murmurs, before dipping his head for another kiss. “Been wanting to do this since we met,” he says against Sokka’s cheek. 

_So have I._ Sokka nudges Zuko’s knees, and he parts them, giving Sokka room to step into the v of his legs. Zuko scoots forward on the counter to bring their hips flush again. 

Sokka rocks forward slightly to create the friction he’s desperate for. Zuko lets out a low moan. Sokka swallows it, greedy. “So amazing, baby,” he says, sucking his way down the underside of Zuko’s jaw. “You’re so beautiful and so good.”

Zuko’s breath hitches. Sokka can’t go another second without seeing his face. He pulls back to lock eyes, and _fuck, yes_ , Zuko already looks wrecked and vulnerable and Sokka’s so beyond gone for him. 

He rocks their hips together again just to see the way Zuko’s eyes flutter with pleasure. He makes another little breathy moan.

Sokka catches him in another desperate, filthy kiss. He slides his hands up Zuko’s thighs, kneading every few inches. Zuko drops his head onto Sokka’s shoulder. “Fuck, Sokka,” he groans. 

Sokka’s fingers tremble as he hooks his thumbs into Zuko’s belt loops and runs his fingers under his waistband, grazing the smooth skin there. He wants to do this, but it’s still new, and he worries he might be moving too fast for Zuko. 

Then Zuko arches into his touch. _Okay, so not too fast._ “Baby,” he whispers, “Can I?”

Zuko nods furiously against Sokka’s shoulder. Sokka fumbles a little with the buttons and zipper. Zuko’s placing little nips and sucking gently along his neck. It’s distracting, as is the almost aching arousal in his own pants. 

Sokka gets Zuko’s jeans unzipped and tugs. Zuko lifts up a bit, just enough to shimmy the pants down to mid thigh. Sokka palms his erection over his boxers.

The hiss that escapes Zuko is the most erotic sound Sokka’s ever heard. Sokka does the same thing again, and Zuko bites his neck, just this side of painful. 

“That good?” Sokka asks. 

“Y-yes,” Zuko stutters. Sokka wraps his hand around Zuko in the thin fabric, squeezes a little. “ _Shit_ —so good,” Zuko says. 

Sokka squeezes again and reaches his chin up to capture Zuko’s moan in his mouth. “What do you want?”

Zuko looks at him, eyes wide and lips kiss swollen. Sokka waits. He’s wanted to do so much to Zuko for so long, but this is not about what he wants. Not yet. “You can have anything, sweetheart. Just tell me what you want,” he says. 

Zuko swallows. “All—whatever,” he says. “Whatever you want to do.”

In fairness, Sokka did say anything, but he hadn’t anticipated going so far in a tea shop. No matter. 

He kisses Zuko again, starts a slow tease with his hand wrapped around Zuko. When Zuko’s breath is coming in shallow pants, Sokka releases him and cradles his face as he kisses him soundly. Then he shoves a hand between them again, slips it under the waistband, and grips Zuko’s cock. He runs his hand from base to tip, loosely, letting a little friction form without being uncomfortable. He smooths his thumb over the moist slit, and Zuko tips his head back in a groan. 

Zuko’s hands come to Sokka’s shoulders, pulling him in for Zuko to tuck his chin into the crook of Sokka’s neck. It makes for an awkward angle for Sokka’s wrist between them, but he keeps up his slow stroking. 

“You’re shaking,” Zuko whispers. 

Sokka’s hand falters. He realizes that he is shaking, just a little. He mouths at Zuko’s neck. “Just excited,” he murmurs. 

_It’s not nerves_ , he tells himself. Sokka hasn’t been nervous during sex since the first time. 

He picks up the pace again, and delights in the strangled little noise he pulls from Zuko’s throat. But then the hands on his shoulders grip harder, and he’s pushed gently away from Zuko. 

“Stop,” Zuko says, breathy. 

Sokka does, immediately. His hand leaves Zuko’s shorts and he rests both on his hips instead. He’s still hard and his head is fuzzy with desire, but he focuses on Zuko’s face. His golden eyes are sharp with concern as they study Sokka. 

And yeah, Sokka’s definitely trembling with something that’s not quite lust.

Toph’s words echo in his head. Sokka said he’d be different with Zuko, and yet here he is, ready to blow the guy in a kitchen.

“Are you alright?” Zuko asks. His voice is so gentle, gentler than Sokka’s perhaps ever heard it. 

“Of course,” he says. It’s not convincing, even to his own ears. 

“Considering you just had your hand down my pants, don’t you think we’re past the point of keeping shit from each other?” 

Zuko smirks a little, and Sokka would normally appreciate the attempt to lighten the mood. Right now all he can do is give a nervous twitch of his lips in return. 

Zuko’s grin falls, and he throws his arms around Sokka for a tight hug. Sokka buries his face into Zuko’s shoulder and loops his arms around his waist. Chest to chest, he can feel Zuko’s heart thundering offbeat of his own. 

He is determined not to cry. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, muffled by Zuko’s sweater. 

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I just—shit. This was not my plan for tonight. I’m sorry.”

Zuko’s silent for a moment before pulling away enough to look at Sokka. He doesn't release him, just traces a hand in soothing circles between Sokka’s shoulder blades. “What was your plan?”

“I wanted to ask you out,” Sokka says. “Properly. Treat you to a nice date, with dinner and everything. Maybe a few, before inviting you back to my place. Then asking if you wanted to be my boyfriend.”

“That sounds nice,” Zuko smiles, encouraging.

“Yeah, it does,” Sokka agrees. “But I fucked that up, and here we are. I told you I’m not good at relationships. But I—I really want to try with you.”

Zuko nods, slowly. “Okay.”

Sokka lets out a high giggle born of anxiety. “Okay?”

“Let’s do that. All of it. When you get back, we’ll go out.”

“I—are you sure?”

Zuko laughs, a full hearty sound that sends Sokka’s stomach back into a spiral. “Of course I’m sure,” Zuko says. “I was sure when you lied to me about where your class was. It’s that I—it was hard for me to believe that you could actually like me back. I, um, my life hasn’t always gone my way.”

Sokka blinks. “The first time we met up? You’ve liked me since then?”

“Well, I thought you were gorgeous when you first came to the tea shop, even if your taste in drinks was questionable. But yeah, you walked me to my office and then turned the opposite direction of where you told me you were going. It was sweet,” Zuko says. “You’re always sweet,” he adds, quiet. Sokka knows he’s blushing.

Leave it to Zuko to find admitting a _feeling_ more embarrassing than nearly having sex in a family member’s business. They’ve probably already committed some kind of health code violation. 

“You’re precious.” Sokka gives him a chaste kiss that he smiles through. “I should tell you, though...I—I haven’t…”

“Done this before?” Zuko finishes. “I figured.”

Sokka nods. “Not with a guy. Is that a problem?”

“Absolutely not,” he says, with a firm squeeze of Sokka’s shoulders. “Just means that I have to work a little harder.”

“Babe, you’ve never had to work to get me. _Ever_ ,” Sokka says. Zuko gives a bashful smile. Sokka grips his hips to slide him to the floor so they’re standing nose to nose. “Is that okay?” he asks. “Me calling you that?”

Zuko gives a small nod. “I like it,” he says, shyly. 

Sokka pecks his chin. “Good.” They hold each other for a minute, letting heartbeats slow and the heat in their stomachs ebb. 

“Uncle is probably wondering what I’m doing,” Zuko says. Sokka can hear the regret in his voice. 

“I think the old man probably has a pretty good idea. We weren’t exactly quiet.” 

Zuko groans. “You’re probably right. Do you want to come up, then?”

Sokka kisses his nose. “Yes.”

Sokka leaves two hours later, after learning Pai Sho and tolerating knowing glances from Iroh every time Zuko brushes his arm or leans a little closer than is strictly friendly. When Zuko walks him down, they spend a few minutes trading easy kisses. It’s less frantic than their first encounter, but the slow movement of Zuko’s lips against Sokka’s own is just as intoxicating. 

“Let me know when you get home,” Zuko says.

“I will. And you’re going to be so sick of me by the end of this break,” he teases. Sokka’s flight home leaves tomorrow afternoon, and he’s travelling with Aang and Katara. 

Zuko rolls his eyes. “Doubtful.”

“Challenge accepted,” Sokka says. Zuko just hugs him.


	7. In which Sokka dons a costume

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter has the obligatory "how Zuko got the scar" conversation. It's brief and absolutely not graphic.

Sokka spends the entire first week of break on a high. He’s giddy when he meets Aang and Katara at their place before heading to the airport, and by the time they board their flight even Aang seems a little tired of hearing about Zuko and Sokka’s long list of date ideas for the new year. 

Katara just tells him to shut up, and he spends the three hour flight up north creating a spreadsheet of said ideas. The five hour ride from the airport to his hometown reenergizes him, and he tells his father everything (well, almost everything) as Hakoda drives. 

Katara screeches at him when he shoves his phone into his dad’s face to show him a picture of Zuko, a snap Sokka had snuck while waiting for him to finish work one day. Photo Zuko is measuring tea leaves, and with his hair tied up the relaxed, open expression on his face is clear. It’s evidence of a rare moment of Zuko in his element. Sokka treasures it. 

Contrary to what he told Zuko, Sokka really doesn’t harass him too much. (“Give the boy time to miss you, son,” Hakoda advises, and Sokka thinks his dad knows a thing or two so he listens.) They do text, however, in between Sokka spending time with his family and visiting old friends from back home. Sokka sends a few selfies of him and his dad, and Gran Gran, and Aang, because Aang would be jealous otherwise. Zuko doesn’t send any of his own, but Sokka’s sure that they’re appreciated. 

It’s Aang’s first holiday with Sokka’s family. He’s met everyone many times, both as their friend and then Katara’s boyfriend, and he’s spent weeks every summer at the cabin. This is the first major holiday Aang’s opted not to spend with his foster dad Gyatso, however. Every tradition is a new discovery for him, and Aang doesn’t bother containing his enthusiasm for it all. It brings a sense of wonder back to activities that Sokka’s done for years. He’s more excited about things than he has been since he was a kid.

“I think Zuko would like it here,” Sokka says. He’s sitting outside with Katara as they watch Aang belly-slide on a bright orange sled down the large community snow hill. They’re the only ones over the age of about thirteen around, but Aang’s oblivious and Sokka doesn’t give a shit. He sends a smile in return for every strange look the parents of younger children give him. 

“You guys haven’t even gone out yet. Don’t you think it’s a bit early to be thinking about bringing him home to meet the family?”

_Not at all._ “I’m just thinking out loud,” he says. Katara eyes him, but shrugs and goes back to watching Aang.

The orange sled flips, sending the kid flying several meters past the bottom of the hill. He’s up in moments, shooting a dazed grin and a thumbs up to the siblings. Sokka laughs as Katara scowls and shakes her head disapprovingly. 

Sokka goes back to imagining Zuko visiting his home. It’s isolated and small and it’s important to be aware of the wildlife that wander through town that are large enough to do serious damage. Zuko’s a city boy at heart, Sokka thinks, but he would bet that he could easily come to appreciate the calm of the forest. Sokka wants to see his face when he shows him the rock cuts across the lake that still have pictographs on them, or when he watches a bear amble across the front yard on a quiet early morning.

Sokka will just have to leave out the fact that Hakoda and Bato are avid hunters and fishermen, and that Sokka grew up doing those activities. He still does, when he goes home. Zuko will need to be eased into that idea.

“As long as that boy knows how to eat,” Gran Gran tells him one day as they prepare dinner, “We won’t have a problem.”

“Gran Gran, lots of people are vegetarians these days,” Sokka reminds her. She hasn’t quite gotten the hang of cooking for Aang yet. 

“Hmph. I worried going so far south would turn you into a city slicker.”

Sokka smiles and goes back to rolling moose meatballs. 

All highs have to end, it seems. 

When Sokka’s _merry day after christmas :)_ text goes unanswered, he starts to get worried. Sokka has no expectation that Zuko’s on his phone at all times, but he always responds within a few hours.

Several more texts and a string of calls that go direct to voicemail later, Katara and Aang are trying to talk Sokka out of buying a plane ticket to leave early.

“He’s probably just busy with his own family,” Aang says.

“Definitely not.”

“Sokka, I’m sure Zuko is fine,” Katara says, exasperated. 

“No, you don’t understand! He wouldn’t ignore me like this, not now. Something _happened_ ,” he insists. 

Aang clasps his shoulder. “He has Iroh,” he reminds Sokka. “And we’re leaving in three days. Can you make it until then?”

_No!_ Sokka wants to scream. He knows something is wrong. 

“Zuko’s not the only one who needs you,” Katara says. “Dad and Gran Gran only see you twice a year.”

That’s what does it, ultimately. Sokka relents and promises to try to relax. He still leaves a message on the Jasmine Dragon’s answering machine that he hopes Iroh will return. He doesn’t. 

———

Their return flight lands in the city early in the morning, and Sokka watches the sky shift from grey to orange-pink to blue with absolutely none of his usual appreciation for the dawn on the rare occasion he’s awake to see it. Zuko’s voicemail has been full for days, so Sokka sends a text on the short bus ride to campus. He can scroll up to see the last time Zuko responded to a message. It’s almost a week ago, under a picture of Sokka, Aang, and Katara sharing a blanket as they sit around a large bonfire in the dark. Zuko had sent _You look happy_. Sokka had told him he was. 

Sokka unpacks haphazardly and resigns to a fitful nap before dressing again and walking further into campus. Undergraduate classes don’t resume for another five days, but graduate students don’t always adhere to the same breaks. 

It’s a slim chance, but Sokka knocks on the door of _Crop Science_ room 007 and hopes. 

The door opens, and his heart soars for an instant before he realizes that the black haired grad student staring at him is not Zuko, but Mai.

“It’s you,” she says in an expressionless voice. 

Sokka thinks distantly that he does not want to play poker against this girl. 

“Sokka,” he says, and offers a hand. 

“I know,” she says, ignoring it. He drops it back to his side. Clears his throat. 

“Do you know where Zuko is? I haven’t been able to get ahold of him for the past week. I’m worried.”

“I’m not his keeper,” Mai says. 

“I know, I know. But you’re his friend. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

She sighs. “There was some family stuff. I don’t know. He didn’t tell me much before he started ignoring my calls, too. He gets like this sometimes.”

Sokka’s heart starts to race. _Zuko_ and _family stuff_ do not go well together. “What did he tell you?”

Mai tosses a length of inky hair over her shoulder. “Something about his father.”

“Oh, shit.”

“That’s the general feeling.”

Sokka thinks for a moment. “Is he coming back to school?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe. You’d be better off talking to Iroh.”

Sokka nods. “Thanks, Mai.” He peers over her shoulder into the cramped office. No trace of Zuko, not that there was much to begin with. He pulls his phone out and unlocks it. “Can you put your number in?” he asks.

Mai arches an eyebrow, just slightly. To Sokka’s surprise, she takes the phone and enters her number without comment. 

“I will come for you if you abuse this,” she says as she hands the phone back.

“I believe you,” Sokka says. He has no doubt Mai could nail his balls to the wall before he has half a thought to react. 

She closes the office door, and Sokka races to the Jasmine Dragon. 

It’s still relatively early, but the shop already has a few visitors. Most are single elderly people, enjoying the quiet before the university crowd returns.

Iroh himself is the only one working. He sees Sokka come in and waves him over to the back of the shop. 

Sokka notes the flowers he’d given Zuko, still in their jar, reduced to brown husks on the windowsill. 

“Sokka,” Iroh greets. “How was your vacation?”

“Where’s Zuko?” he asks, ignoring the pleasantry. Iroh gives him a tight smile. 

“My nephew is a complicated young man,” Iroh starts. 

“I know that,” Sokka snaps. He feels bad for letting his stress get to him when he’s speaking to Iroh, but he feels taut and nauseated with worry. “What happened with his father?”

“Ah,” Iroh says. “Did Zuko mention my brother?”

“No, I spoke to Mai. He hasn’t been responding to my calls for a week.”

Iroh sighs and busies himself with scooping tea leaves into a pot. “Zuko is going through a difficult time. My brother is not a kind man or a good one,” he says. This time, Sokka lets him continue. “Theirs has always been a strained relationship, to say the least. My nephew’s life was much improved when he left that house. But Zuko sometimes still has a hard time dealing with his emotions and certain bad memories.”

“Iroh,” Sokka says. “What _happened_?”

Iroh takes a moment to pour hot water into the pot before speaking. “If Zuko did not tell you, then it’s not my place to do so. He’s been in his room for several days. Perhaps you can take this to him, as a favour to me,” he says, slipping a crocheted trivet under the teapot and handing it to Sokka with a stack of two mugs. 

Sokka nods, grateful, and shuffles upstairs to the apartment. 

He raps on Zuko’s door with the knuckles of the hand holding the mugs and enters without waiting for an answer. It’s pitch dark, the blinds drawn, but with the light from the hall Sokka can make out the Zuko-sized lump on the bed. He’s facing the wall, curled into himself under the covers. 

“Uncle,” Zuko grumbles. “What did I say about knocking?”

“Technically, I did knock,” Sokka says. Zuko flips in the bed, then sits up quickly. 

“Sokka?” 

“Were you hoping to be rid of me?” Sokka snaps. “I was fucking worried about you,” he says, setting the teapot down on the nightside table. Zuko reaches over to flick on the lamp. 

Zuko winces at the sudden light. He looks like shit. Zuko will never not be beautiful, but Sokka notes how he’s paler than usual and how his body sags a little even as he sits in bed. Under his eyes are so purple he looks bruised, and his hair is flat and unkempt. 

“What are you doing here?” Zuko asks. He’s not looking at Sokka. 

Sokka’s been worried, he’s _still_ worried, but now that he sees that Zuko’s relatively okay—physically, at least—he’s feeling pissed. He peels that anger back and finds hurt. 

Sokka’s more than happy to go with the flow and he doesn’t need a lot of validation, but Zuko had dropped him without an explanation, and it hurt. Worse than he could have anticipated. 

“Like I said, I wanted to be sure you hadn’t died or something. Good to know you were just being a dick,” Sokka says. His hands are clenched at his side, and he’s torn between pulling Zuko into an embrace and smacking him upside the head. 

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re _sorry_?”

“Yes.”

Sokka takes a deep breath. He’s not going to get anywhere like this—Zuko will just shut down further, close Sokka out. Zuko needs care and patience, and Sokka can deal with his anger later.

Sokka lowers himself to the edge of the bed. Zuko draws his knees to his chin to make room for him. “I shouldn’t have said that just now, okay? I only mean—you can’t just shut me out like that. That’s not how this works. I know it gets hard for you. Emotions are _hard_. I get overwhelmed sometimes too, but pushing people away who want to help isn’t good.” He’s not trying to berate Zuko, but Sokka needs him to understand that what he did is not acceptable. “I don’t hate you for this, not even close, but whether you meant to or not you still hurt my feelings by not letting me in. So, please. Want to tell me what’s going on?” he asks.

Silence.

“Mai said that there was some family stuff that came up. Something with your dad.”

Zuko’s eyes flicker wider, but still he says nothing. 

“I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

“You can’t help at all,” Zuko says, voice cold.

Sokka takes another deep breath, because _ouch_. But at least Zuko’s talking. “Maybe not,” he says. “I can listen, though.” He lifts a hand to put it on Zuko’s shoulder, but Zuko catches his wrist. 

“Don’t,” he says, pushing the hand away gently. 

“Okay, okay,” Sokka says. His voice is low, trying to soothe, trying not to scare Zuko away. “I’m here for you.”

“That’s the problem.”

Damn, Zuko is not pulling his punches. “What do you mean?”

“Ozai—my father. He’s being released on parole.”

Oh. _Shit_. “I...didn’t know he was locked up,” Sokka says. He’s not sure how this affects his relationship with Zuko, but Zuko doesn’t do anything without a reason. Even if that reason would seem convoluted to any typical person. 

“He went away after I came to live with Uncle.” Zuko pauses for a long moment. “I told you that he burned my face?”

Sokka nods, because he cannot trust himself to speak.

“After Mai and I broke up, I met this boy at school. His name was—it doesn't even matter. He...he wasn’t nice, but I was so miserable and just happy to have someone who seemed to understand me, even if they were horrible. He was over one day, at my house. My father wasn’t supposed to be home for a few hours, but he came back early for some reason.”

“Fuck,” Sokka breathes. 

Zuko tucks his chin further between his knees. “I think he already suspected, but when he saw us—he lost it.”

Sokka doesn’t want to know more—he’s not sure he can handle it, but Zuko continues and Sokka forces himself to be present. “There had been a crew doing minor work around the house all week. He grabbed a butane torch from their tool section. I—I don’t remember much past that point, but I woke up in the hospital and Iroh took me home with him.”

Sokka feels sick. Zuko’s curled even further in on himself, like he’s trying to disappear. “That’s when he got sent away?” 

Zuko barks a laugh, hollow and rough. “No. That was a year later, for insider trading. Apparently it’s harder to make that go away than child abuse. Azula had never been right, but she had her breakdown after he left. I don’t think he ever hit her, or did anything to her, but I can’t be sure. Either way, she didn’t take it well.”

Sokka has no words. He wants to cry, he wants to hold Zuko, and he can do neither. They sit for a few moments. 

“That’s why we can’t be involved,” Zuko says eventually. “If Ozai’s out there, I don’t want you to be associated with me. It was stupid to think I could have this.”

“When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“That day.”

“Does he know where you live?”

“We moved here from the city, so maybe not. But even if he doesn’t, he will as soon as he gets out. Ozai’s well connected.”

Sokka tips his head back. His mind is spinning. “We can figure this out,” he says, more to comfort himself than anything. “If he’s on parole, then he can’t leave the area, right? The city’s over an hour away.”

Zuko shrugs. “It’s only a matter of time.” There’s a moment of quiet, then Zuko’s back snaps straight suddenly, startling Sokka. “You should go,” he says, abrupt and cold again.

“What? No, Zuko, I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone.”

“I didn’t ask for you to be here.”

“That’s what I’m saying, you don’t _have_ to, because I—”

“Please leave.”

“Zuko—”

“ _Now_.”

Sokka’s frozen, staring at Zuko’s profile. Then Zuko meets his gaze, and his honey eyes are hard, his jaw set. Sokka swallows the lump in his throat and stands. His legs feel wobbly.

He leaves Zuko’s room without another word and wanders out of the tea shop in a daze. Vaguely, he registers Iroh calling his name, but he doesn’t turn back. 

———

Sokka’s final semester of his degree is fucking miserable. 

He doesn’t see Zuko for a month, then another, and suddenly it’s March and not a day has passed that Sokka doesn’t think about him. 

His grades are higher than ever, because studying is the only reasonable distraction he can think of. He applies to grad programs anywhere that looks interesting. He goes to water polo practices and games—Toph’s friend Teo replaced Zuko, and they don’t win much—but his heart isn’t in it. 

Suki was right, months ago. He’s pining. _I’m a goddamned pining mess_ , he thinks with disgust at himself. Not a single date, and he’s more hung up over Zuko than anyone, ever. At least with Yue there was some closure, a proper goodbye. Sokka knows that Zuko’s still in his office, a few buildings away, or in an apron down the block. He just doesn’t want to see him. 

_You shouldn’t come here_ , Mai says.

_Give him time_ , Iroh says. 

Sokka gives him time, but time doesn’t heal. Sokka only feels older. 

For all that Toph often lacks emotional sensitivity, she doesn’t give Sokka shit when he says they need to find a new tea place. They do, a coffee shop a few blocks south of campus. It’s large and loud and they make a terrible cup of jasmine.

“I’m just saying, they could’ve gone with something less drooly,” Toph says. Her feet are propped on the low table in front of the couch they’ve claimed at the shop. Her new guide dog Momo, a light yellow lab, is snoring under the table. 

“Please, you love him. And your parents care about you,” Sokka says. Momo was a gift from Toph’s parents for the holiday. She complains that she didn’t need any extra help, but they all know she adores the dog. Sokka’s fond of Momo, too, though there are days he wonders how this particular dog passed the supposedly rigorous training.

As if reading his mind, Toph says, “I kind of wonder if he was actually a reject from the program.”

Sokka smiles. “Aang says he’s skilled in neutral jing. I have no idea what that means, but he says it like a compliment.”

Toph snorts. “Did they pick out their puppy yet?”

“I think Aang would take the whole litter if Katara let him.” Sokka stamps down the flash of jealousy he feels—Katara and Aang are talking with a breeder about getting their own dog. Sokka doesn’t want a pet, necessarily, but it’s sometimes hard to watch his younger sister move on with her life while he feels like his own is crumbling. He’s happy for them, he just feels adrift. 

Many of them are about to graduate—Toph and Aang have a year left—and Sokka has no doubt his friends are moving on to great things. He has plans, but they seem half-baked and tasteless when he thinks about them now. 

He finishes his coffee and listens to Toph talk about her latest midterms and her training with Suki’s club. Apparently Toph took to martial arts eerily quick, and some of the other girls are a bit apprehensive about sparring with her. 

Sokka’s gaze snags on a bulletin board behind a small table. It’s a typical coffee shop bulletin, covered in overlapping advertisements on brightly coloured paper. For a low fee, Sokka can have Sharon Moonbeam act as his spiritual guide on a cleansing journey to a nearby waterfall. 

That’s not what catches his eye. Sokka sees a pixelated photo of a couple on a balcony, dressed in frankly ridiculous costumes, and his mind is already working. 

“Sokka?” Toph says. “You still with me?”

Sokka snaps back to himself. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just got an idea.”

Toph sighs heavily. “I assume it has to do with Zuko?”

He ignores her. “Give me a sec.” He stands and paces over to get a closer look at the play announcement, garnering strange looks from the couple sitting at the table in front of the board as he leans between them. 

_Romeo and Juliet_ is playing at the community theatre this weekend. 

Sokka snaps a picture of the details with his phone and returns to Toph. 

“So,” she says when he sinks back into the couch, “What’s the plan?”

“I got this one, Toph. But how do you feel about theatre?”

Toph groans. “I can never follow the play. And musicals are the _worst_.”

Sokka just grins. “We should get back to campus. Your afternoon class is starting soon,” he says. 

“Are you going to _your_ class?”

“Well—”

“Didn’t think so.” Toph crosses her arms. “Where to?”

———

It’s a pricey cab ride across town to the theatre, and Sokka happily lets Toph cover it. They’re closed past the box office, because it’s tech week and there are no other performances scheduled for the evenings until the current show is over. Sokka begins to explain himself to the teenager working at the front desk of the venue, but he gets halfway through before the kid just waves him past with an eye roll. Toph still slips him a twenty—there’s no need, and Sokka thinks she does it just to show off her bribery skills.

The auditorium is in chaos. Sets are being patched even as actors run through lines and blocking on stage. In the aisle, there’s a pair of men in tights practicing some sword fighting choreography. Sokka leads Toph and Momo to a seat in the upper back row, and then edges through the cast to get to the director. 

She’s easy to find, an intimidating figure with a sheet of dark hair and thick eyeliner. She’s calling out prompts and corrections as the actors work through their scene. The lights flicker strangely, and Sokka peers up at the tech booth as an explosion effect sounds loudly and then cuts off abruptly.

“Sorry!” someone shouts. 

The woman drops her head into her hand. “Take ten!” she says. The actors on stage move off.

Sokka clears his throat as he approaches. “Are you the director?” The woman glares at him, but doesn’t deny it.

Sokka’s almost thankful he’s had so much experience with Mai and Zuko’s brooding. He ignores the fact that this woman looks like she spends her weekends getting into bar brawls for fun, and introduces himself. “I’m Sokka. I was wondering if you’d be willing to hear me out about an idea I have.”

“June,” she says. She gives him a once over, a head to toe assessment that has him feeling like a horse on display at auction. “Is it about a girl? Oddly, I get a lot of requests from people wanting to get back with their girlfriends. Frankly, most of the girls could do better.”

Sokka flushes. “It’s, um, about a boy,” he admits.

“Well, that’s new,” June says. “Tell me.”

She sits, hooking her ankles over the top of the seat in front of her. Sokka takes a seat one over, and explains. 

June listens intently. She’s silent for a moment when Sokka finishes, and his chest is tight. “Well,” she says slowly. “It’s stupid. But you probably already knew that.”

Sokka grimaces and starts to rise. “Thanks anyw—”

“I didn’t say no,” June interrupts. “It’s stupid, but it’s brave.” She picks at a black-painted nail absently. “You know, I never help the poor saps that come here wanting to appease their girlfriends. Usually the only reason they’re in the mess in the first place is because they did something idiotic. But it sounds like your boy’s pretty messed up, huh?”

Sokka bristles and opens his mouth to snap, defensive of someone suggesting that Zuko’s the issue—even if he kind of is, at the moment. June holds her hands up. “Hey, easy. I just mean that you’ve got some real shit to work through, that’s all.”

Sokka can’t argue with that. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Alright. Come on closing night. I’ll give you five minutes. It’s not like everyone doesn’t already know the story.”

Sokka could hug her. That seems like it would result in bodily harm, so he settles for a broad smile. “ _Thank you_ , June. Honestly. I don’t know how to pay you back for this.”

“Just get some friends to buy tickets and we’ll call it even. Now get out of here, I have a show to direct.”

Sokka bounds up the auditorium steps to collect Toph and Momo. June’s already back to yelling at her cast. Toph looks vaguely in his direction as he approaches, while Momo barely opens an eye.

“Cancel your plans for Sunday night,” Sokka says. Toph smirks. 

**Sokka:** hey Mai :)

**Mai:** what is it.

**Sokka:** bring Zuko to the theatre this Sunday. Iroh too

Sokka attaches the picture of the play details and sends them.

**Mai:** are you high?

**Sokka:** Mai i know you have a heart somewhere, please do me a favour and find it

**Mai:** fine but you’re paying for my ticket and one for Ty Lee

**Mai:** this better not be a waste of my time

**Sokka:** i got you covered. Just get Zuko here 

**Mai:** he’ll be there whether he wants to or not

**Sokka:** thanks Mai

**Sokka:** <3

**Mai:** no.

**Sokka:** guys you are coming to a play on Sunday night

**Sokka:** tickets will be under my name

**Aang:** ooooh what play???

**Sokka:** Romeo + Juliet

**Suki:** barf

**Katara:** Why are we seeing a play?

**Sokka:** FOR LOVE 

**Aang:** im in!!! Cant say no to love

**Sokka:** thanks bud

**Sokka:** the rest of you better be there too otherwise i might lose my nerve

**Suki:** is this about Zuko?

**Sokka:** why does everyone assume that?

**Sokka:** but yes

**Katara:** You know we’ll be there for moral support

**Aang:** this is so exciting :)))

**Katara:** If this doesn’t stop your moping we’re going to have a chat

**Suki:** aww I think its sweet

**Suki:** but seriously you owe us one

Sokka places a dozen tickets on hold at the box office to cover his friends and a couple extras, just in case. He owes June, anyhow. When the bored teenager tells him the total, Sokka curses in his face. “You do realize this is _community theatre_?” he says, incredulous. 

“Uh huh.”

Sokka could weep as he pulls out his credit card. 

“The things one does for love,” he mutters. 

“Oh for the love of—here,” Toph says, shoving her own card onto the counter. “Don’t say I never did anything nice for you, Snoozles.”

Sokka risks giving her a hug, careful to let go before she can nail his ribs. “Toph, you are my hero.”

“I really don’t hear that often enough,” she says. Sokka smiles at the rare blush on her cheeks.

———

Katara comes over and hears out Sokka’s plan. She doesn’t seem to disapprove, but she must call their father when she leaves, because it’s not more than an hour before Hakoda’s phoning him.

“Dad?” Sokka answers. “What’s up?” It’s not that he never talks to his father, but Sokka’s usually the one to call.

“Hey, kid. Your sister is concerned. Want to tell me what’s going on?” 

Sokka rolls his eyes. “Katara is such a traitor.”

Hakoda sighs. “Just—at least explain why _this_ is the way you’re going about wooing the guy?”

“It’s a grand romantic gesture!”

“Sure, son, but those don’t really happen outside the movies.”

“I get that. But Zuko’s not—” _normal_ comes to mind, but that’s not fair. Zuko is a bundle of contradiction, so fragile and the most resilient person Sokka knows. He wants to hear nice things but rejects them when he does. He doesn’t always believe that he’s worth loving, but he wants love more than anything. 

“Zuko’s not what?”

Sokka pinches the bridge of his nose and sits on his couch. “Zuko’s not...conventional.” Sokka doesn’t have a single word for Zuko, but that will have to do for now. “He’s complicated, and kind of an idiot sometimes, but believe me when I say this will at least get the message through his thick skull. He can’t _ignore_ this, dad. Even he won’t be able to convince himself it’s a lie. That’s why.”

“I trust you, Sokka. It’s nice to see you working so hard at something, but I worry that you’re going to get yourself hurt. This is a big move if you’re not sure he feels the same way.”

Sokka thinks about that. Zuko had told him he was certain he wanted to go out, to give it a shot, but then his actions hadn’t backed that up. More contradictions. 

But—no. Zuko pushes people away because he thinks it’s the best way to protect them. 

Sokka doesn’t need protection, and he won’t be scared away. 

“I’m sure, dad.”

There’s a long pause. “Okay, Sokka. Good luck on Sunday. We’re all here rooting for you.”

Sunday night comes quickly.

Sokka is backstage, ready to vomit into a prop bucket. He’s been at the theatre since the afternoon, watching the cast run through their lines a bit and trying to keep his mind from wandering into the negative. 

_What if Zuko doesn’t show? What if he just doesn’t want me anymore? What if he’s angry? What if he’s embarrassed by me?_

He pushes the thoughts aside. The audience’s mumbling and rustling float over to him, and he watches the actors do their vocal warmups. He knows that his friends are out there, but he hasn’t heard from Mai yet.

No sooner than he thinks it does his phone buzz.

**Mai:** we’re here. Row H

Sokka peeks past the curtain and spies Mai and a perky looking girl in a pink dress—Ty Lee, he assumes—with Iroh on her other side. A very sullen looking Zuko has the aisle seat, his arms crossed and eyes downcast. 

Sokka loses his breath. He hasn’t laid eyes on Zuko since he threw Sokka out of his bedroom over two months ago. He looks as rough as he did then, yet Sokka can’t help but revel in how stunning he is.

“Got your mic?” a voice asks at his shoulder. 

Sokka jumps a little as he turns to face the actor who plays Juliet—Song. She’s grinning excitedly at him. She was so on board with the idea of Sokka stealing her scene in a few minutes that he can’t help but like her. Sokka scratches at the itchy collar of his costume. 

He’s wearing an itchy, Elizabethan _costume,_ complete with tights that leave little to the imagination. This better work. 

“All good to go,” he says. It’s a little weak, but Song just pats his arm encouragingly.

The play starts. Sokka’s hardly hearing anything, waiting intently for his cue over the rushing of his own blood in his ears. 

_I don’t know if I can do this._

It doesn’t matter, because suddenly he’s being thrust onto the stage. It’s hot, and the lights are blinding, and Song is looking down at him from the balcony set.

There’s a bit of a murmur from the crowd. Sokka tries to peer out at them but it’s all light.

It’s a loaded pause, and he could run off right now, pretend this never happened. But Sokka’s never run away from hard things before, and he’s not going to start now. Instead he rolls his shoulders back. Then he starts the lines he’s been memorizing all week. 

They’re burned into his mind at this point. In this altered state they’re not perfect, and he imagines that Zuko will give him shit for not sticking strictly to iambic pentameter, but he says them in a wispy voice that slowly finds its footing. 

_He jests at scars that never felt a wound._

_But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?_

_It is the east, and Zuko is the sun._

_Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,_

_Who is already sick and pale with grief,_

_That thou her man art far more fair than she:_

_Be not her man, since she is envious;_

_Her vestal livery is but sick and green_

_And none but fools do wear it; cast it off._

_It is my lord, O, it is my love!_

_O, that he knew he were!_

_He speaks yet he says nothing: what of that?_

_His eye discourses; I will answer it._

_I am too bold, 'tis not to me he speaks:_

_Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,_

_Having some business, do entreat his eyes_

_To twinkle in their spheres till they return._

_What if his eyes were there, they in his head?_

_The brightness of his cheek would shame those stars,_

_As daylight doth a lamp; his eyes in heaven_

_Would through the airy region stream so bright_

_That birds would sing and think it were not night._

_See, how he leans his cheek upon his hand!_

_O, that I were a glove upon that hand,_

_That I might touch that cheek!_

This is where Sokka steps out of his borrowed role. He paces to the edge of the stage and squints against the lights. 

He waves. “Sokka here,” he says. “I’m no Romeo, but I have a Juliet. And he’s sitting in the audience. He’s a bit of a jerk sometimes—actually, he’s a jerk a lot of the time. But he’s sweet, and funny, and he cares so much about people. He’s a good teacher, too. I don’t know if I ever told him that, but he is. Maybe that’s what he should do with his degree. He teaches theatre studies, actually! He called me dramatic once, but I bet he never expected this,” Sokka chuckles awkwardly. Someone clears their throat. He knows he’s rambling, but he can’t stop now. “We’ve only known each other a few months, but I can’t imagine my life without him. Zuko, I don’t care what you’re dealing with, or what I’ll have to deal with to be with you. I’ll do it—I’ll do all of it. Anything. If you tell me that you never want to see me again, that you hate me for embarrassing you like this, then I won’t bother you anymore. But I want you to know that from the moment I heard your voice at the tea shop, I’ve been helpless. I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with you if I wanted to. And I sure as shit don’t want to.” Sokka takes a shuddering breath—can a person forget how to breathe?—“I’m pretty sure our story can have a way better ending than this play. At least, I don’t imagine that we’ll end up dead in a cave somewhere. I hope not.”

“Spoilers!” a voice from the audience calls— _Haru?_ —and there’s a ripple of laughter. 

“So anyways, I’ll let you all get back to what you came for. Zuko, I—” Sokka falters. “You know where to find me. I’ll be here.”

Sokka nearly sprints off the stage. The real Romeo actor slaps his back on the way by, and Sokka hears a round of applause before the play picks up again where it left off.

“Nice work, kid,” June says as he rounds the corner. “You’ve got real balls.”

Sokka mutters a thanks and loses his dinner in the nearest washroom.

He watches the rest of the play but hears none of it. His friends wait for the audience to clear and find him in the left wing. Sokka looks for Zuko in the auditorium, but he’s not there anymore. Maybe he left as soon as he saw Sokka come on stage. 

“That was amazing,” Katara says, hugging him tightly. He hugs her back just as fiercely, if only to stay on his feet. 

“It really was something,” Suki says.

“Good job, Sokka!” Aang cheers. 

“Who knew Snoozles could act,” Toph teases.

“Did you guys see Zuko leave?” Sokka cuts in, brushing off their praise.

His friends look between each other. “He stayed for the play, but left right after,” Haru says, patting Sokka on the shoulder.

“Do you want a ride home?” Suki says, softly. 

Oh no. Now they’re pitying him—they think Sokka’s failed. 

“No, thanks, I—I need to go,” he says. His friends protest as he retreats, but he ignores them. 

Sokka jumps into the first cab he can find. He’ll return his stolen costume later, and maybe he’ll even wash it first. Right now he just needs to be at home. 

He silently thanks the cab driver for not commenting on the tears that streak down his face on the ride to campus. 

———

Sokka doesn’t care that he’s sweaty and gross, because he has nobody to impress, but he drags himself into the shower anyway. When he emerges and throws on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, he feels slightly more human. 

He finds a documentary about the people who film nature documentaries and puts it on. It’s kind of meta, and would be interesting on any other day, but right now Sokka only needs his mind to be blank. 

There’s a few texts from his friends, encouragement and offers to bring food and booze that he ignores. He’s on autopilot when he answers the door after a knock—he doesn’t even realize that it’s past one in the morning. 

“You are such a goddamned stubborn idiot,” Zuko hisses. 

Sokka barely registers it’s him before he’s being crowded into his own apartment and the door slams behind them. He puts his hands on Zuko’s chest, unbelieving that _he’s here he’s here he’s here_. 

“You’re here,” he says. 

“Clearly,” Zuko says.

Sokka blinks at him. _Fuck, he’s pretty_. “But why?”

Zuko’s frown deepens. “I can go, if you want.”

Sokka wraps a hand in Zuko’s jacket. “No! I just—wh—I’m surprised.” It comes out almost like a question, and Sokka groans internally.

“Like I said, you’re an idiot,” Zuko growls. “But I guess I am too, because I can’t fucking help myself.”

Zuko kisses him. 

Sokka reacts before thinking, his hands going to Zuko’s hair and moaning into his mouth. Zuko wraps his arms around Sokka’s waist and steers him to the couch, where they land in a tangle of limbs.

Sokka adjusts, pulling Zuko on top of him fully, wanting to feel his weight. Zuko plants kisses along Sokka’s jaw before pulling back.

“Did you mean it?” he asks.

“ _Yes_ ,” Sokka breathes. He’s not even sure what he’s being asked, but the answer is yes. He’s meant everything he’s ever said to Zuko. 

“Good,” Zuko murmurs, and leans in. 

The kisses are messy and hot, and Sokka feels every point of contact between them. Slowly, the kissing ebbs as Zuko places little nibbles and pecks all over Sokka’s face. He smiles through it, his eyes closed. He’s been lost in the sensation of _Zuko_ since he first showed up, but he’s realizing now how exhausted he is. 

Zuko pulls back to look down at Sokka. He brushes a strand of hair from Sokka’s forehead with a fingertip. It’s enough to make Sokka sigh with pleasure as his eyes flutter closed again. 

“Bedtime,” Zuko whispers. 

Sokka cracks an eye open. “To sleep,” Zuko clarifies. 

Sokka nods. “Sleep.”

Zuko rises to let Sokka lead him to the bedroom. He’s never had Zuko in here before—it feels nice, right. Sokka digs up another pair of sweats and a fresh shirt from his dresser and hands them to Zuko. He turns his back as Zuko changes quickly, lest he be tempted away from the sleep he needs. 

Zuko crawls into the bed like it’s his own, and Sokka smiles. He must be tired, too. He’d never act so familiar otherwise. Sokka turns out the light and arranges himself around Zuko, draping an arm over his waist to splay his fingers on his chest. It’s almost too warm, with their bodies aligned this way, but Sokka couldn’t be paid to move and Zuko doesn’t say anything more. 

It’s the best sleep Sokka’s had in half a year.


	8. In which Sokka finds more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here's the end! We really earn our E rating here and get a happy ending (ha).

Sokka wakes up with a pounding head when he feels the mattress dip beside him. He rolls over. Zuko’s awake, and he must have just come from the washroom because his hair is tied up the way it wasn’t last night. 

The sight of Zuko in his bed is nearly enough to chase away the headache. Sokka smiles. “Morning.”

“Hey,” Zuko murmurs. He dips his head for a brief kiss. Sokka pulls away before it gets too heated. 

“Mm. Morning breath,” he says. “Give me a minute.”

Zuko flops back as Sokka crawls over him to get to the washroom. When he returns, Zuko’s lying on his back, one arm braced under his head. 

Sokka wants a picture of this moment.

Thankfully he doesn’t need one, because if he has anything to say about it, this is the first of many like it. 

He jumps onto the bed, startling a laugh out of Zuko. Sokka catches it with his lips. 

Zuko rubs his hands along Sokka’s arms as he returns the kiss, languid and soft. He tucks his chin into Sokka’s shoulder after a moment and Sokka lets his weight rest on Zuko’s chest. 

It feels right, just to hold him this way. He feels blessed that Zuko lets him. 

Sokka’s a carer, but he’s also always known what it is to be cared for. Zuko hasn’t, and Sokka needs to change that. He is _going_ to change that.

“Should we talk?” Zuko asks a few minutes later.

“Hm. Probably, eventually. Do you want to do that now?”

“Do you?”

Sokka doesn’t miss the hesitation in his voice, and the eagerness under that. He lifts his head and raises his eyebrows at Zuko. “We haven’t had our first date yet. I believe that you were promised _several_ dates, actually.”

“I think that you professing your undying love for me in front of half the town is a good reason to expedite things,” Zuko deadpans. 

Sokka swats his arm. “At no point did I say undying.”

Zuko snickers. “You really _are_ dramatic, though.”

Sokka can’t suppress his own laugh. A brief moment of self-consciousness follows. “Did...you like it?”

“It’s the greatest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Zuko says it so gravely that for a moment Sokka thinks he’s being mocked. But Zuko looks earnest, his golden eyes boring into Sokka’s. His mouth goes dry. “That’s good,” he says. 

He tugs Zuko over for a kiss, and this time he pours all of his feeling into it. He shifts, slots himself into the space between Zuko’s legs to ease his weight down. Zuko’s breath catches, and his hands find their way under Sokka’s shirt to flatten on his upper back. 

It’s not long before Sokka can feel just how much Zuko’s enjoying this. He rocks his hips downwards, experimentally. Zuko breaks their kiss to moan, and Sokka props himself onto his elbows. He works his shirt off, a bit awkwardly, before tossing it to the side. 

Zuko watches with a blatant hunger on his face that makes Sokka’s cheeks heat. His hands are roaming across Sokka’s arms and chest, occasionally dipping down to his abs. The room is warm, but Sokka has to suppress a shiver. He can feel the trail of gooseflesh that Zuko leaves on his arms. 

His fingers trace the dark band of a tattoo that curls around Sokka’s upper right bicep. “I like this,” Zuko says, almost reverently.

Sokka gives him another sloppy, open mouthed kiss before tugging gently at the bottom of Zuko’s shirt. It’s a gentle question. Zuko nods, and Sokka helps pull the shirt over his head.

Sokka props himself back up to admire the sight below him. Zuko’s blushing, and Sokka runs a hand along his collarbone and over a nipple. 

Zuko jumps. Sokka laughs a little, then tweaks the nipple again. Zuko’s addictive and _so_ responsive. Sokka’s been hard for a good while already, and he’s not sure how he’ll make it last if they go further, but he’s going to try. 

“That first water polo game was agony,” he murmurs, tracing a finger down the center of Zuko’s chest. “You’re so pretty. It’s always been very distracting.”

Zuko lets out a startled whine. Sokka glances back at his face—his eyes are wide, as if he can’t believe the sound came from him. Sokka grins. “Do you like that?” he asks. “I could tell you how pretty I think you are all day.”

Zuko yanks him down, kissing and nipping at the underside of his jaw and throat. Sokka’s hands make their way to Zuko’s hips, and he holds them as he rocks his own forward again. 

They both groan at the friction. Zuko kisses Sokka’s hair. “We can stop here,” he says. His voice is tight with need, but Sokka knows he means it. “This is nice. This is enough.”

Sokka sucks on Zuko’s neck before answering. “I know,” he says. “But I want to keep going. Can we?”

He leans down to nip Zuko’s collarbone with his lips. “Oh god— _yes_ ,” Zuko pants. 

Sokka pulls up for another deep kiss, sucking Zuko’s bottom lip into his mouth and pressing into his hips until he’s squirming beneath him. “Still good, baby?” he asks.

Zuko’s done with words, apparently. He bites his lip and nods. 

Sokka kisses a trail down Zuko’s throat and chest, pausing to dart his tongue out over each nipple. Zuko’s sensitive there, and each time his back arches into the touch. Zuko’s fingers are playing with Sokka’s hair, just barely teasing the ends. 

“You can pull, a little,” Sokka says, his lips brushing Zuko’s stomach. Zuko shivers and wraps his hands more firmly in Sokka’s hair.

Sokka licks and nips around the skin above the waistband of Zuko’s sweats. He looks up to see Zuko watching him—almost _longingly._ Sokka’s chest aches with affection. He curls his fingers under the elastic. “Can I take these off?” he asks.

Zuko nods again, lifting his hips a little and releasing his hair so Sokka can tug the pants free. He pulls them off Zuko’s legs, tossing them inside-out to the floor. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, when he looks back to Zuko. He’s blushing furiously, completely exposed beneath Sokka. “So fucking pretty,” Sokka says. 

His own cock is twitching, but he ignores it. He leans back to start a trail of kisses at Zuko’s knee, up the inside of his thigh. He does one side and then the other, kneading as he goes and stopping just before reaching Zuko’s full erection. 

Zuko parts his legs a little. Sokka smiles—that strikes him as the equivalent of Zuko begging. He teases his fingers through the soft hair at the base of Zuko’s erection before wrapping a firm hand around him. 

Zuko moans, hands grappling at Sokka’s head again. Fingers find purchase in his hair and tug gently. Sokka sets a slow pace for moving his hand from the base to the tip of Zuko’s cock, swirling his thumb over the head each time. 

“Fuck, Sokka, _fuck_.”

“Feeling good?”

Zuko keens as Sokka increases his pressure and pace. “Good,” he pants. “So good.”

Sokka grins again before holding Zuko’s cock at the base and running his tongue over the head lightly. Zuko’s hips stutter upwards and he heaves a ragged breath—Sokka holds his hips down gently and does it again, tasting him. It’s strong and salty, but not unpleasant. 

Sokka’s had this done to him enough times that he thinks he understands the basics of it, even if most of what he remembers is pure heat and pleasure. He curls his lips around his teeth and pounces, sliding his mouth around Zuko’s cock in one go. 

Zuko lets out a surprised cry that fades into another moan. 

Sokka chokes a little and pulls back, a string of spit following his lips. He glances up at Zuko, who’s watching him with unfiltered awe on his face. He tilts his head back down again, taking Zuko into his mouth more slowly this time. 

Zuko hisses, his fingers gripping Sokka’s hair tightly. He doesn’t push down though, which Sokka appreciates. He sets a steady tempo, bobbing his head on Zuko’s cock and trying different things with his tongue—a flick at the slit, a firm lick on the underside of the head—to see what Zuko responds to. 

He finds a rhythm, with his hand wrapped around the base of Zuko’s erection and his mouth working the upper half. He hollows his cheeks around the head every few passes, and Zuko makes satisfying whimpers each time. 

Whenever Sokka’s imagined this over the past few months, he thought that this might be weird at first, but he’s enjoying himself. The sounds that are coming out of Zuko are _delicious_ and definitely doing it for him. He reaches down to palm at his own hardness through his pants, just a few times.

His jaw is just starting to ache when Zuko groans his name and tugs up on his hair. Sokka pulls off his cock with a last hard swallow and lets Zuko’s hands pull him up so they lie chest to chest again. 

“I didn’t want to come yet,” Zuko murmurs, and Sokka grins because _I did that to him._

Zuko is breathing hard, and he kisses Sokka like he’ll starve otherwise. “Pants off?” Zuko asks.

Sokka scrambles backward to wrench the sweats off before settling back between Zuko’s legs. He drops his head to Zuko’s chest with a strangled groan when a hand is thrust between them to grip his cock.

“ _Fuck_ , baby. How _do_ you want to come?” he manages through his teeth. Zuko tugs on Sokka’s cock again and he sucks a mark over Zuko’s nipple. 

“I—um, maybe…”

Sokka looks up at Zuko. He’s looking away, off at the wall and not at Sokka. _No, that won’t do_. “Sweetheart,” he says, cupping a hand to Zuko’s cheek to tilt his face back. “You have to tell me what you want. I’ll give you anything.”

Zuko swallows hard. He’s still holding Sokka’s cock, and it’s _very_ distracting, but Sokka forces himself to focus. “I—if you want…”

“I _want_ , baby, I promise. Anything you do. Just tell me,” Sokka babbles against Zuko’s cheek. He starts tracing small kisses along his chin and up, just to the edges of the scar. Sokka’s learned that sometimes Zuko operates best when he doesn’t have to face someone directly. Sokka can work with that, but he’s not letting him get away without using his words. “Please, Zuko. I want to make you feel so good,” he says.

That’s all Sokka has ever wanted to do for him. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Zuko whispers. Sokka stills, just for an instant, then continues kissing a path across Zuko’s face. It’s enough for Zuko to misread and start to backpedal. “Only if you want,” he says quickly, “If not, that’s—”

Sokka cuts him off with a hard kiss on the mouth. “I want to,” he says. “I want to very much. God, you want me inside you? That’s _so hot_ , baby. Let me grab stuff.”

Zuko nods, his lips parted and wet. Sokka can’t resist nipping them a last time before he leans over to paw around his nightstand. He snags a condom and the bottle of lube before settling back onto his knees. He pulls Zuko’s hips closer so they’re nearly flush again. 

“I’m surprised you have that,” Zuko says, with a jerk of his chin toward the lube. His face is flushed red. 

Sokka smirks. “I’m a gentleman, I will have you know.” He tugs once at Zuko’s cock for emphasis, earning a half-hearted glare. 

“Some gentleman,” he mutters. 

“You love it,” Sokka says. He leans over for a quick kiss and sits back. Zuko’s beautiful like this, already half-wrecked with pleasure and wanting. 

He hates to suggest it, because this view is perfect, but he asks, “Should you...turn around?”

Zuko shakes his head. “I wanna see you.”

Sokka grins. “I wanna see you, too, baby. But I’ve never done this. You’ll have to walk me through it so I don’t hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Zuko assures. His voice is rough with desire, and it sends tingles down the back of Sokka’s neck. 

The naked trust on his face is deeply heartening and arousing in turn. Sokka’s breath comes a little shallower. 

Zuko grabs a pillow and shoves it under his hips. “Just start with fingers,” he says. “And more lube is always better than not enough.”

Sokka nods. His hands are trembling a little, but he’s confident that it’s from anticipation and not anxiety. He squirts a little lube onto his fingers and rubs to warm it slightly. Zuko props himself up on his elbows and leans forward, asking for another kiss.

Sokka’s certainly not going to deny the man what he wants.

When they part, he slips his hand down to trail a finger from Zuko’s balls to between his cheeks. Zuko whines when he reaches his entrance, and his eyes slam closed. Sokka teases gently for a minute, watching Zuko’s reactions as he swirls a finger around, then dips in slightly with gentle pressure.

Zuko drops back onto the bed with a loud moan. Sokka gets braver, pushes his finger in slowly until he’s at the knuckle and gives an experimental curl of the tip. “This okay?” he asks.

Zuko’s answer is a string of cursing and surprisingly creative ways to use the lord’s name in vain. “More,” he says, after a few minutes of slow thrusting from Sokka. 

Sokka’s second finger slips in easily. It’s possibly the hottest thing he’s ever done—he feels Zuko unraveling beneath him, and he wants to break him down and piece him back together again. Over and over, as long as Zuko will let him. 

It’s been a few minutes with three fingers when Zuko says in a hoarse voice, “ _Please_ , Sokka. Shit, please, _please_.”

_This_ is Zuko begging, and it’s fucking fantastic.

Sokka gives a final sharp thrust that tears a near-sob from Zuko’s throat before pulling his hand free. He rolls the condom on and coats himself in a generous layer of lube, then aligns himself with Zuko’s entrance.

He lowers himself for a messy kiss. He’s sucking on Zuko’s jaw when Zuko finally begs, “Sokka, I _need_ you to fuck me. Please.” 

“Okay, baby, yeah. Okay. You’re so good. You’re incredible. I’m gonna be good to you,” Sokka says. He leans back a little and reaches between them to guide himself into Zuko.

Zuko’s eyes clench and his breathing comes faster. “Baby, look at me,” Sokka says, pausing. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just— _ah_ , slower, a little slower,” he says. His hands are laced together around the back of Sokka’s neck. 

“Slower, okay. Tell me what’s good for you. You have to tell me.” Sokka’s chattering, hardly aware of what he’s saying anymore. He’s so hard, he’s been hard for so long, and Zuko’s so tight. His body is screaming at him to move, but he clenches his teeth and eases into Zuko slower than he thinks possible. 

After a minute Zuko grabs at his hips. “I’m okay, Sokka, you can—”

He gasps as Sokka pushes forward the last couple inches, bringing his hips flush with Zuko’s. He runs a hand over Zuko’s throat and into his hair. “Still good, sweetheart? Doing good?” he grits out. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Zuko breathes. His eyes are still closed. 

“Not an answer, babe. Talk to me. I need to make sure you’re good,” he says. He’s holding himself steady, ignoring the fact that he’s dying for friction. 

Zuko meets Sokka’s eyes. Sokka’s not used to eye contact during sex—it’s too intimate for his usual encounters, and his first instinct is to look away. But this is _Zuko_. Sokka holds his gaze. 

Zuko’s eyes have always been a portal for his feelings, transparent and honest in a way that he struggles to be with his words. It makes it easy for Sokka to see the raw emotion that Zuko tries so hard to keep bottled, and he’s not even sure Zuko realizes this. 

Sokka wants to combust from the open adoration that Zuko’s looking at him with now. 

“You can move,” Zuko whispers. He grinds his hips up, throwing stars into Sokka’s vision. “ _Shit_ , yeah, please move,” he grunts. 

Sokka pulls back slowly, hissing at the friction he’s been craving. Then he eases forward again, and Zuko tugs on his hips. “I know, baby, I know,” he says. 

“ _Sokka_ ,” Zuko whines. “ _Fuck me_.” 

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he says, and sets a slow pace. He wants to tell Zuko that he feels like what they’re doing is the farthest thing from fucking, that he thinks he finally understands why _making love_ always sounded like bullshit before this moment—but that’s a conversation for later. He can save it, whisper it into Zuko’s ear before he sleeps, and see that exquisite blush creep over his face. 

Sokka thinks he’s babbling—he probably is, anything and everything dirty and adoring coming out of his mouth, unaware of most of it. All he hears is the mess of Zuko’s moans and cursing as he slowly shatters beneath him. Zuko gives a hard pull on the backs of his thighs when he wants more, and it’s only a few minutes before Sokka’s fighting back the tide of his own pleasure. 

“Can you come for me, baby? I wanna see you come. Can you be good and do that?” he says into Zuko’s neck, finishing with a filthy kiss and a hard thrust. 

The praise does it for Zuko. “ _Yes yes yes_ ,” he chants on an exhale, nodding. 

“Good, honey. So good.”

Sokka groans through the next few thrusts, a little faster and harder, and suddenly Zuko’s pushing Sokka’s hand between them. Sokka wraps his fingers around Zuko’s cock and times his jerking to his final few thrusts.

Zuko comes wordlessly and hard, back arching as he coats Sokka’s fingers in wet warmth. Sokka keeps up both his motions through it, reveling in Zuko’s every twitch from the aftershocks. Finally Zuko pushes his hand away gently, murmuring, “Too sensitive.” His legs stay locked tight around Sokka’s sides. 

Sokka kisses him again. He’s still painfully hard. “What can I do, baby? Can I keep going?”

“Yeah,” Zuko says. “Keep going. Want you to come.” He’s nearly slurring, ruined and blissed out from his orgasm.

Sokka doesn’t need more encouragement. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly he gets his, the tension in his core cresting and crashing within a few more thrusts. He comes with a groan of Zuko’s name into his throat, his hips stuttering as he rides it out. Zuko’s hands clench on his arms, and he’s moaning too, little sharp exhales. 

Sokka drops onto Zuko, still inside of him and breathing hard. Sweat and spend slick their bodies. Sokka nuzzles into Zuko’s shoulder, and Zuko traces circles with his fingers onto his shoulders and the sides of Sokka’s ribs. Sokka has never felt more loved. 

It’s a half minute before he has the presence of mind to pull out, doing so with a collective hiss. He places a kiss on the inside of Zuko’s thigh before dragging himself to the bathroom to throw away the condom and grab a towel. 

Zuko hasn’t moved, and again Sokka smiles at the sight of him splayed out in his bed. _So fucking lucky_ , he thinks. 

Zuko makes to grab for the towel but Sokka murmurs, “Let me take care of you.” Zuko nods, and Sokka cleans up his stomach and chest. The towel gets discarded on the floor before he slides back into bed and tucks Zuko into his side so his head rests on Sokka’s shoulder.

He sets his chin on Zuko’s head. “How are you doing, babe?”

Zuko mumbles something unintelligible onto Sokka’s chest. He’s nearly sleeping already. Sokka’s drained from the sex but also alert from his total euphoria at being here, with Zuko, desperately in love. He runs his fingers through Zuko’s hair as he dozes.

Zuko’s breathing evens out and deepens within moments. He sleeps for an hour or so—Sokka’s not counting. He’s entirely content to let Zuko rest and to relax into the calm that’s come over him in the past ten hours.

There’s shit to sort out, still. A lot of shit. He and Zuko need to have a talk, probably more than one, about what this is going to look like and what’s happening with his father. He also needs to know that Sokka’s not okay with being cut out, at all, and they need to work on that so it doesn’t happen again. Sokka still doesn’t know if or where he’s going to go to grad school, and that could throw a wrench into things in a heartbeat. 

It won’t matter. Sokka’s got Zuko in his arms and in his life, and he doesn’t plan on letting go. Zuko can snarl and pout and make crappy excuses all he wants, but Sokka knows he doesn’t want to give this up either. 

Zuko stirs eventually, stretching out along Sokka’s side. 

Sokka presses a kiss to his hair. “You’re so cute,” he mumbles.

Zuko slides his head down to the pillow and glares groggily at Sokka. “M’not,” he mutters. 

Sokka flicks his nose, gently. “You are, baby. _So_ cute. Goddamned adorable.” He gives a full body squeeze when Zuko burrows into his side. “Feel like breakfast?” he asks, smiling. Breakfast is firmly in the third date slot in Sokka’s spreadsheet, but it’s fine. 

“Mhm. One more minute.”

——— 

“You can’t go that far away!” Katara protests. 

“If it’s the best program, he should,” Suki says.

“We’ll never see you,” Aang frowns. “But we’ll support your decision.”

Katara throws him a look that says she won’t be supporting _shit_ , and Sokka laughs because of course she will. She always does. 

They’re in the Jasmine Dragon, his best friends and Zuko. The latter has an arm slung around Sokka’s waist. Sokka received three acceptance letters in the last couple of weeks, and his decisions are due soon, by the end of May. He just finished describing each of the options to the group.

“Snoozles is gonna do whatever’s best for him. He doesn’t usually fuck the important stuff up too bad, so he should be fine,” Toph says. Momo yawns at her feet. 

“Aw, thanks Toph,” Sokka says, genuinely touched. Zuko chuckles beside him. They both know that Sokka has plenty of experience messing up the important things (as does Zuko, he’d like to point out), but he’s also been pretty fortunate in the end. 

“Follow your heart and you will rarely be led astray,” Iroh says, appearing to top off their mugs of tea. 

Sokka hasn’t forgotten that even Iroh was in on the betting pool that made Toph far too much money, but he’s an easy man to forgive. He also happens to almost never be wrong. 

Sokka catches Zuko’s eye, and he flushes. It hasn’t been perfect, but Sokka hasn’t regretted following his heart to Zuko for a single damn moment. He leans over and pecks Zuko’s scarred temple. 

“Guys, oogies,” Katara complains. 

Aang hooks her into his side and presses a kiss to her cheek, and she sputters. “See, it’s sweet,” Aang says. Toph makes gagging noises and they all laugh. 

“Ugh, it makes me sad to think of anyone leaving. I wanna see more Appa pictures!” Suki says. Aang is more than happy to pull up pictures of their new St Bernard puppy on his phone, and soon the whole table is cooing. Even Iroh comments on how cute the little (not for long) guy is. 

Sokka grabs Zuko’s hand under the table and tugs. Zuko’s lips twitch, and he pushes his chair back. Sokka stands and leads them to the back of the shop. 

“Get a room!” Suki calls after them. Zuko shoots her the finger over his shoulder. Sokka just grins and shakes his head—Zuko’s awkwardness and wry humour don’t sound like they’d mesh with the gang on paper, but they do, and _he_ does. Even Mai and Ty Lee have started to hang out with them occasionally. Sokka’s since admitted that Mai is actually pretty cool, and she’s a better friend than she’ll ever let anyone claim. 

It’s really nice. Sokka only regrets that some of them will be going different directions soon—he wishes sometimes that they would have all found each other earlier, but Aang reminds him that they needed to follow their own paths to get here. 

They’re barely into the stairwell to head up to the apartment before Zuko’s pressing Sokka against the wall, hands on either side of his face to angle his chin for a deep kiss. Zuko’s either all feather-light touches and sweetness or hard edges and big emotions, Sokka’s realized, and not often something in between. He kisses back, letting his hands roam freely until they settle comfortably on Zuko’s ass. Zuko smirks and huffs a little before pulling back, letting his weight rest against Sokka.

“When are you going to tell them you’ve already decided on your program?” Zuko asks. 

“When we find a new place,” he says. “Might as well lay it all on them at once.”

Sokka’s decided on a masters program just an hour west of here. It’s not the best funding package he was offered, but it’s a good school and he’ll be close to his friends. They’ve been apartment hunting for a couple weeks, trying to find something that will allow for easy commuting for both Sokka and Zuko. The former is getting family help to buy a car, and apparently Zuko makes killer tips at the tea shop. He bought a used two-door a week ago. 

(“It’s because you’re so hot,” Sokka had told him. “You send the little old ladies into a tizzy with your tight ass and sexy scar.”

Zuko had thrown half a cookie at him.) 

Sokka has to move from campus housing soon because he’s graduated, and Zuko spends most nights at his place anyways. Zuko’s a little nervous about officially moving out of Iroh’s place, so he’ll keep a room here, but for all intents and purposes they’ll be living together. 

Sokka cannot fucking wait. He can’t wait until he doesn’t need to stay awake long enough to hear the chime of Zuko’s _made it home_ text because he’ll already be home. Sokka will _know_ he’s safe, and comfy, and overwhelmingly loved. 

“Should we get a puppy, too?” he asks. “Seems to be the thing to do these days. Adulting, or something, I think it’s called.”

Zuko kisses his nose. “I prefer cats.” He pauses, then adds, “Or bunnies. Maybe a bird?”

Sokka rolls his eyes. “You get _one_ cat.” 

Zuko can have as many cats as he wants and they both know it, but Zuko pretends to pout anyways. “So mean.”

Sokka just laughs and pulls Zuko in for a hug. “I love you,” he whispers. 

“Love you,” Zuko says, a little rough and just as quietly. 

He doesn’t say it often, and even if his actions show it every single day, it’s nice for Sokka to hear the words. Every time they send a thrill through him—he’s not quite sure what he did to deserve this gift. 

“I wanted more,” he says. Zuko pulls back to look at him, his brow furrowed. Sokka presses a thumb there to smooth the crease. “Before I met you, I was thinking about how I wanted more.”

“Oh,” Zuko says. Then he _beams_ with understanding, and Sokka’s head spins like the first time. “Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” Sokka says, voice thick. “I found it.”

He pulls Zuko in for another breathless kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally I wouldn't advocate for living together so soon, but this is why this is fiction!
> 
> Thanks to anyone who read this and left such lovely feedback, it's been tons of fun! Take care out there :)


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